The Slytherin Hufflepuff
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: In the interest of combating JKR's epilogue of doom, I present my version of life beyond Deathly Hallows. This is a dual story, half Albus/Scorpius and half Harry/Draco. DH compliant. This fic contains MATURE adult content.
1. Chapter 1

The Slytherin Hufflepuff 

**First Meeting**

They met, quite by accident, when they were eight years old; on the day Al's father took him to Diagon Alley to look for a book. Al was quite excited to be on an outing with his father, as it was rare for the two of them to be alone. Al's father let him pick out a book, gave him an affectionate pat on the head, and quickly disappeared into the dark shelves. Al gripped the latest version of Quidditch Through the Ages and looked for a quiet place to sit down and read. He knew his father could spend hours browsing the stacks of books when he was looking for something in particular.

Al noticed a thin, blond-haired boy seated in a nearby window alcove. The boy sat cross-legged with a huge book in his lap. Every so often, he would reach up and tuck an elusive silver-blond strand of hair behind one ear, even though it slipped back down to lie against his cheek almost immediately. Al watched him for a bit, impressed with the boy's concentration. He was fascinating, with that amazing straight hair, pale skin, and impeccable blue robes. He looked… regal. Al was suddenly conscious of his rumpled robes, and his hair that constantly stuck up in all the wrong places.

Al took a deep breath and walked forward. He sat down next to the boy, and was almost mesmerized when the boy's eyes met his in surprise. They were quite an astonishing shade of grey.

"Hi," Al said and smiled.

The boy surveyed him for a moment. He seemed to be calculating the possible consequences of giving Al a simple greeting. Al held his breath. The boy seemed very thoughtful and serious.

"Hi," he said finally. Al grinned happily, assuming he had passed some sort of test that allowed him to be acknowledged. He immediately crossed his legs, bumped his knee into the boy's, and plopped Quidditch Through the Ages on his lap.

"What's your name?" Al asked.

"Scorpius," the boy replied. Al's grin widened, and he nearly guffawed. The silver eyes narrowed.

"You think my name is funny?" Scorpius snapped.

Al shook his head. "Don't worry, it's not _half_ as funny as mine. I'm Albus."

The angry look left the blond's face, and his lips twitched in amusement. "Really? Albus?"

Al grimaced. "Yeah, and my middle name is even worse. My friends call me Al. Pleased to meet you," Al said, recalling the manners his mother had drummed into his head. He stuck out his hand, hoping it wasn't too dirty. The blond looked at it for a moment, and then gripped it lightly. Albus squeezed. Scorpius squeezed back. Al squeezed harder, and so did the blond. Soon they were attempting to crush each other's hand bones. Al began to laugh, and after a moment, Scorpius did, too.

"On the count of three," Al said, feeling his fingertips going numb, "We both let go."

"Three," said Scorpius. They both released their aching hands, and Al giggled so hard he nearly fell forward off the seat. Scorpius chuckled, and Al thought he looked awfully nice when he smiled.

"Do you have a nickname?" he asked.

"No. Just Scorpius."

"Can I call you Score?"

The blond shrugged. "I suppose. If you like." He returned his focus to the book in his lap, and Al felt like he'd been dismissed.

At that moment, the sound of raised voices came to them. Al looked up in surprise, recognizing his father's voice. His father marched out of the shelves, looking angrier than Al had seen him in a long time. A tall man who looked remarkably like Scorpius followed him. He looked just as angry as Al's father.

"Back off, Malfoy!" Al's father hissed. The blond man put a hand out and grabbed his shoulder to spin him around. Al's eyes widened. He had never seen anyone dare to touch his father in anger. Not ever. Not only did the man grab his shoulder, but also clenched both fists into Al's father's robes and slammed him against the nearest bookshelf, making several of the books fall over. Al wondered why his father didn't reach for his wand and hex the man into a toad.

Al looked at Scorpius, who was staring at the angry men in astonishment. Al looked back at the blond man and felt a horrible sinking sensation. He had to be Score's father. The enraged blond man leaned forward and snarled something inaudible into Al's father's ear. His father closed his eyes, as though to block out whatever the man said. Al knew that trick. _La la la, I can't hear you_. It never really worked, though, not unless you stuck your fingers into your ears at the same time. And Al's father's hands were clenched into fists.

He raised those fists suddenly, but instead of hitting Score's father, he opened his hands and pushed against the blond's chest, shoving the man backward. The two men glared daggers at each other for long moments.

"My dad," Al whispered miserably.

"Mine, too," Score replied just as quietly.

"I don't think they like each other."

"Scorpius," the blond man said loudly. "Come along."

Score closed his book and got to his feet. He looked at Al with an expression of shared commiseration, and then followed the billowing dark cloak of his father as the man swept out of the store.

Al got up and walked to his father, who smiled at Al, even though he still seemed shaken by whatever Score's father had said.

"Who was that?"

"Draco Malfoy," Al's father said quietly. "An old… friend from school."

Scorpius Malfoy. Now that he knew Score's full name, Al decided he would send him an owl. Just because their fathers did not get along didn't mean Al couldn't talk to his new friend, right? He'd check with Rose, first, of course, just to be sure. She was so much smarter than Al. She would know what to do.

Clandestine Affairs 

Scorpius Malfoy, as it turned out, was a genius. After Al's first owl message, Score had come up with several secretive ways for them to communicate, beginning with sending owls to each other in the dead of night. It was harder for Al to get owls than Score, because Al shared a house with James Potter, the snoopiest brother alive.

Though he was loath to do it, Al was forced to incinerate all of his notes from Score, because James would have found them. James would have then blackmailed Al into doing his chores for the next million years.

Score was the one that came up with the brilliant plan for them to meet. The next time Score's father went on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley, Score owled Al and told him to arrange a trip at the same time. They would meet at Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop. Al was so excited he nearly gave the game away by making James suspicious. His brother looked at him and sneered.

"Why so eager to go to Diagon Alley, Al-butt?" he asked.

Al shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

"I want to see if there are any new Quidditch books at Luna's."

James sneered, as expected. The day his brother willingly picked up a _book_ was the day Al would eat a Thestral. "You're so weird."

"Not as weird as _you_," Al retorted carelessly. James hurtled across the room and pounded Al's head against the floor.

"Take. It. Back," James said, whacking his head with each word.

"I take it back!" Al squealed, seeing stars. James was such a freaking brute. His brother climbed off and dusted his hands with satisfaction.

"Bring me some sweets from Fortescue's, or you die," James said and left the room.

"Sure. Poisoned ones. Ass-hat," Al muttered and rubbed his aching head.

Scorpius sat at a corner table. Before him hovered a large dish of chocolate ice cream. Al happily slid into the seat next to him and grabbed the pale hand that rested on the table. He laced their fingers together and squeezed.

Score looked at him in surprise. He tried to detach his hand, but Albus held tight.

"Boys don't hold hands," Score drawled.

"Why not? Girls do. Why is it okay to shake hands, but not hold them?"

"It's just not. When boys hold hands, people say they're poufters."

"What's that?"

"Boys that like other boys," Score explained in a tone that suggested Al was an idiot.

"But I _do_ like you."

Score sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Not like that. Like, boyfriends. You know, snogging and all that mushy stuff."

Al wrinkled his nose. "Ew, that's gross! Snogging is disgusting! Teddy and Victoire do it all the time. They make these slurping sounds and moan at each other. It looks wet and sloppy to me." Al shuddered.

Score shrugged. "Well, that's what people will think."

Al set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't care what people think." He squeezed Score's hand more tightly.

"Well, I do, so let go."

Al tossed his head, but released Scorpius. "All right. If you're afraid."

Scorpius glared at him. "I never said I was afraid!"

"Of course you are. You're afraid of what people will think."

Scorpius snatched Al's hand and squeezed it until Al's knuckles creaked painfully. Al refrained from wincing, barely.

"There. Are you happy now, you obstinate prat?"

Al did not know what obstinate meant, but he grinned and nodded. With his left hand, he picked up the spoon and took a large bite of Score's ice cream. The platinum-haired boy looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"I don't know why I want to be your friend. You're insufferable, really."

Al did not know what insufferable meant, either, but he knew Score wasn't serious.

"You want to be my friend because you're terribly lonely in that big, old house by yourself."

"I am not lonely," Scorpius said, but his hand stopped trying to turn Al's into jelly.

"Well, _I _am, and I have a brother and sister. I can't wait until schools starts and James is gone. Be glad you don't have an older brother." Al dropped the spoon and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. He must remember to buy James sweets or he would have a matching wound on the _front_ of his head.

"I can't wait until school starts for us," said Scorpius.

"You are going to Hogwarts, right?"

"Yes. Mother wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but Father wouldn't hear of it."

Al was relieved, and mentally thanked Score's father. Even though he was mean to Al's father, and shoved him into bookshelves. "What House do you think you'll be in?"

Score shrugged. "Slytherin, of course. All the Malfoys have been in Slytherin."

Al was horrified for a moment. James had told him horror stories about Slytherins. And Uncle Ron was constantly mentioning "that evil Slytherin git" although which one he referred to varied. "I don't really care, as long as it isn't Hufflepuff."

"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Al asked.

"They're sheep," Scorpius explained. "Idiots, the lot of them. Their only redeeming quality is loyalty, and they'll throw their lot in with anyone willing to lead. March dead off a cliff, I'll bet. Loyal to the end."

"Make an excellent army, wouldn't they?"

Scorpius looked at him critically.

"You know, Al, you're smarter than you look. Maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw."

Al nearly laughed. James always called Al an idiot. No way he was smart enough to be a Ravenclaw.

"Probably Gryffindor. James is a Gryffindor. And Mum and Dad were Gryffindors. And Uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione. And Teddy. Uncle George and Uncle Bill. Oh yes, and Uncle Charlie. And Percy…"

Scorpius laughed, and Al stared at him in amazement. He had never heard the blond boy laugh aloud before. Score had a great laugh. Al joined in just from the sound of it.

Score's laugh silenced abruptly as his gaze shifted out the glass door. "Father is coming. I'll owl you next time we plan to come to Diagon Alley." He gave Al's hand a squeeze, and went outside before Draco Malfoy could enter. Their greeting seemed stiff and formal to Al, who would have leaped on his father with a huge hug, but then he saw the elder Malfoy grip his son's shoulder. No exuberance, but affection, at least.

Al and Score met clandestinely several times after that. Twice in the ice cream parlour, once at the bookstore, and once at the Quidditch World Cup, shortly before both were scheduled to attend Hogwarts. Their families were seated not far from each other, although the riotous Potter-Weasley clan was a loud contrast to the pale, reserved Malfoys. Albus thought they all looked beautiful—pale and aloof, like expensive statues.

Scorpius caught Al's eye and made an obscure gesture. Al excused himself to use the lavatory, but his mother insisted he take Lily along. Al pouted in annoyance, but complied.

"Score! The World Cup! Isn't it exciting?"

"Not really. My team is not playing, so I don't care who wins. Who is your little shadow?"

Lily glared. "I'm no shadow. I'm his sister. Who are you?"

"Never mind, Lily. Just use the damn toilet and hurry it up."

"I'm telling Mum you said a bad word!"

Al stuck his tongue out at her. Lily did the same and marched away. Al rolled his eyes.

"Be glad you're an only child," he said. Score smiled and Al laughed aloud. He leaned close and touched Score's hand with a quick squeeze. "Just think, Score! We'll be at school soon! Then we can be together _every day_."

"Unless we're in different Houses," Scorpius said. Al sobered.

"Yeah, but we'll still have classes together, right?"

"Probably."

Al was quiet, knowing it was likely that he would be in Gryffindor, and Scorpius would be in Slytherin. They would make friends in their own Houses and see each other rarely. Al was suddenly annoyed at the unfairness of it. If only their fathers didn't hate each other, they would at least be able to see one another away from school.

"Why does your dad hate mine, anyway?" Al asked quietly, wishing there were some way to force the Sorting Hat into putting them into the same House.

"I don't know. Why does yours hate mine?"

Al shrugged. "Maybe we should ask them."

Lily returned, and glared at them both.

"I should go," said Score. "See you on the Hogwarts Express."

Al grinned. "That's right! I'll meet you in the last car. Wait; make that the second to the last car. James always sits in the last car, and we _don't_ want to be with him."

Scorpius bowed slightly to Lily. "Pleased to meet you, Al's sister. Bye, Al."

He sauntered away, and Lily looked up at Al. "I guess he's not so bad," she admitted. Al grinned before yanking at her hair ribbon and running back to the stands with Lily in angry pursuit.

Hogwarts 

Al fidgeted nervously while he waited to board the train. He craned his neck now and again, trying to spot Scorpius through the crowd of taller people in his way. James was bouncing like an idiot, waving to everyone he even vaguely recognized. James was the most popular boy at school, at least according to James. Rose Weasley stood next to Al, looking as nervous as he felt. He only wanted to be in Gryffindor if Score was there also, and it was a good bet Score would be in Slytherin. James had been terrifying Al all morning with stories about the _evil_ children in Slytherin House, and suggesting that Al might be sorted there.

The steam cleared for a moment and Al caught sight of Scorpius. His relief was nearly crushing. He had been terrified that Score's father had changed his mind and decided to send Score to Durmstrang. He smiled widely, and a tiny smile touched Score's lips before he pretended to ignore Al.

Uncle Ron made a joke about disinheriting Rose if she was not sorted into Gryffindor, giving Al a moment of panic. "He doesn't mean it," Aunt Hermione said, and Al's mother agreed, giving her brother a poke. Al's uncle straightened suddenly, and moved closer to Al's dad.

"Look who it is," Uncle Ron said as the steam thinned again.

Both Al and his father turned to look at Draco Malfoy and Scorpius. Al noticed a beautiful, thin blond woman standing with them. Al's forehead wrinkled. Was the woman Score's mother? She looked a lot like Al's father, so perhaps she was another relative, like an aunt. She wasn't fussing over Score the way Al's mother was fussing over Lily, tucking her scarf around her neck to keep it from blowing away.

Uncle Ron advised Rose to beat Scorpius in every test, earning a glare from Al. What did Uncle Ron have against Score? Al nearly asked, but Aunt Hermione lectured Uncle Ron, so his uncle apologized. James returned in a complete tizzy about Cousin Teddy kissing Cousin Victoire. Al rolled his eyes. Who cared about kissing? He just wanted to get on the train and see Score.

James kicked at Al, made an obnoxious comment, and boarded the train. Al's mother kissed him, and then Al's father hugged him hard.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?" Al asked, reluctantly disturbed by James's warnings.

Al's father knelt down, and Al looked into the green eyes so like his own. His father spoke quietly, easing his fears about Slytherin House, and then revealed a secret that made excitement leap through Al's veins. _The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account._

Al quickly boarded the train and hurried to the second to last car. He fidgeted impatiently until a familiar silver-blond head peered in. Scorpius grinned.

"Al. I was afraid you would be in here with your hoards of relations."

"No, it's just us so far," Al said and shifted aside. Score sat beside him, after stowing a small travel bag in the overhead compartment.

"Father insisted I bring some sweets from home. He says the food on the train is substandard."

Al thought that was terribly funny. His mother was a good cook, but Al thought train food would be a wonderfully amazing change from home-cooked meals. He grabbed Score's hand happily.

"I can't believe we're finally going! And wait until you hear what my father told me!" He repeated the news about the Sorting Hat considering the wearer's choices. "It's a _secret_, of course. My father never told anyone before, not even James! I know it, or James would have told me." Al felt terribly special about that.

Score looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, Al, that opens up a world of possibilities. It means we can be in any house we choose."

"And it means we can be together! Will you be in Gryffindor with me?"

Score laughed. "Certainly not. Gryffindor is for brave idiots."

Al pouted, recalling the taunts of James outside the train. He was terrified to be in Slytherin, and almost hesitated to ask. "Not… not Slytherin?"

"I've been thinking about that, Al. My father has told me story after story of Slytherin House. To prepare me. Frankly, they don't sound at all friendly. The chief trait of Slytherin seems to be to get ahead, and while I can certainly relate to that, I hate to have so much bloody competition. It must get very tiresome, being on your toes all the time, fighting to be top dog. And once you _are_ top dog, how do you stay there?"

Al nearly sighed with relief, although he was nearly as nervous at the next suggestion. "Ravenclaw, then? I told you, I don't think I'm smart enough."

Score made a huffing sound. "Of course you're smart enough. You're my friend, aren't you? That alone qualifies you for brilliance. However, I think I've found a better option for both of us. Hufflepuff."

"Huff… Hufflepuff?" Al was astounded. He'd been called a Hufflepuff as a curse word by his brother for the past year, every time he'd done something remotely stupid or annoying. "But you said they were…"

Score nodded. "Sheep, yes. But then I thought about what you said, that they would make the perfect army. Think of it, Al! We could rule Hufflepuff! With my brains, and your… well, whatever makes you _you_… we could take over Hufflepuff without a fuss. I would be their king, and you would be my…"

"…queen?" Al said dubiously, the first thing that came to mind. Score socked him in the shoulder with his free hand.

"No, you idiot! My right hand man. The king's champion."

"The king's champion," Al breathed, enraptured. Score's brilliance was beyond comprehension.

"Besides, I look stunning in yellow, and you… well, we'll just have to keep you in black, I suppose. Yellow will do nothing for your complexion and it won't highlight those green eyes of yours at all, but one cannot have everything. It's settled, then? We'll ask the bloody hat to put us in Hufflepuff?"

"Absolutely." Al smiled and thanked his stars that M came before P in the alphabet. Regardless of what house Scorpius ended up in, Al planned to spend his every instant under the hat begging to be placed in the same, even if it turned out to be Slytherin.

As it turned out, Al's father was correct. Scorpius spent quite a long time beneath the hat before it finally yelled out, "Hufflepuff!" Al thought it sounded a bit confused. There were more than a few shocked murmurs throughout the hall, especially from the teacher's table. Al thought Professor Longbottom looked stunned as he watched Scorpius walk triumphantly to the yellow-bedecked table.

Al's turn came shortly thereafter, and as the oversized, battered thing darkened his vision, he heard a small voice in his ear. "Another Potter, eh? Always interesting, the Potters…"

"Hufflepuff," Al whispered desperately. "Hufflepuff, please. Oh please."

"Hufflepuff? Are you sure? You seem to know your own mind… Slytherin would take you far. Intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, you are, and brave… yes, bravery goes without saying…"

_Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff._

"Odd," the hat muttered. "You're the second boy ignoring my choices tonight, but if you insist, let it be… HUFFLEPUFF!"

Al nearly collapsed with relief and ignored the shout of horror coming from where his brother sat. He nearly threw the hat at the next student to be sorted, and raced to the Hufflepuff table, where his new housemates welcomed him with slaps on the back and loud cheers. Al looked only at Scorpius, whose silvery eyes glowed with triumph as he held out his hand to Al.

He heard a recurring whisper from along the table, and it sounded excited and a bit awed. "We've got a Potter! A Potter!"

"We must send your father a thank you card," Score whispered with a chuckle as Al joined him on the bench. Under the table, Al gripped Score's hand tightly with barely suppressed excitement, and his friend did not try to pull away. "Bloody hat wanted to argue with me. Insisted I should go in Slytherin."

"It said Slytherin would take me far," Al murmured. "But that I could be in Ravenclaw, too."

Scorp grinned. "See? I knew you were smart."

Al's heart soared. Tomorrow, he would have to face his brother, and explain to all of his sundry relatives why he was the only non-Gryffindor in the lot, but tonight he simply didn't care. Score's plan had worked brilliantly.


	2. Chapter 2

First Year 

Their first year at Hogwarts did not see Scorpius Malfoy invested as the Hufflepuff king. Whenever Albus asked about it, Score would smile mysteriously and say things like, "Patience, Al, this is not a Hufflepuff plot", and "All things in the fullness of time."

Al was content. His first year at Hogwarts was blissful for the most part. He spent nearly every waking moment with Scorpius. The only time they weren't together was breakfast on Saturday and Sunday, since Score insisted on sleeping late. Al would trip down to the Great Hall and sit with his Gryffindor relatives. Most of them had stopped teasing him by the second month, with the exception of James, of course.

Al and Score were nearly always hand in hand, as one of them seemed to be constantly dragging the other along. Evenings found them in the Hufflepuff common room huddled on the sofa together. Score would read or work on homework. Al would pretend to study until he fell asleep on Score's shoulder, and eventually Score would wake him for the trek to their room. More often than not, they slept on the same bed, albeit at opposite ends. Albus invariably fell asleep on Score's bed, and Scorpius would levitate the blankets from Al's bed to cover his sleeping friend. Al figured he spent more time in Score's bed than his own.

They became commonly known as Malfoy and his Shadow, partially due to Score's insistence that they dress the part. Scorpius wore yellow at all times, from palest gold to deepest buttercup, and insisted that Al wear primarily black. Al didn't mind, accepting Score's assurance that he looked awful in yellow, and he rather liked it when everyone stopped calling him Malfoy's Shadow and simply referred to him as Shadow. It made him feel rather sinister and ominous.

Al and Score took all their classes together, and Al's ambidexterity turned out to be an unexpected benefit. Al used whatever hand happened to be closest to his wand to cast spells, earning envious glares from Score.

"You're a lucky git, Al. I can barely cast a Lumos with my left hand," Score admitted.

Al grinned. "You sound like James. He's always hated me for being able to use both hands."

Score sniffed haughtily. "I refuse to have anything in common with James Potter. And I certainly don't hate you."

"Good, because I like you far better than James, and if you started acting like him, I would have to hex you. With both hands."

"You'd have to catch me first," Scorpius said and bolted. Al bellowed and charged after him. Their merry game of tag turned into an evening of detention when they accidentally mowed down Madam Hooch on the third floor landing. Of course, Al didn't really consider it punishment stuck in the broom shed all evening, polishing school brooms and arguing with Score over what Quidditch team would take the next World Cup. Al could not think of anywhere he would rather be.

Summer was horrible. First the Malfoys went on holiday to China, of all places. Score said it had something to do with his father's business. His mother did not accompany them. Score sent Al dozens of postcards and letters, most of which stated how utterly bored he was with China. Al grinned at Score's whining tone. He knew the blond didn't hate it nearly as much as he complained. He adored his father. Al thought he was terribly lucky to be able to spend so much time alone with his dad. Al always had to share with James and Lily. Time alone with his dad was rare. In fact, time at all with his dad was rare. Al's father worked long hours, and was often gone for days at a time. Score had barely returned from China when Al's family decided on a spontaneous holiday. At least, it seemed spontaneous to Al, who had heard his parents arguing about it for weeks, but he had not actually expected his father to take time off from work. Apparently his mother's nagging skills had not diminished.

So it was that the Potters packed and took a Portkey to Greece, where they walked through ancient ruins and looked out over the sparkling Mediterranean during the long, hot days. At night their parents argued about Al's father "going through the motions" and "wishing he was back at work". Al knew just how he felt. Al wished they were back home, too. He was sick of James trying to push him into dry cisterns and Lily whining about how her feet hurt. He was tired of his parents fighting when they thought Al and the others were asleep, and he was bothered by their façade of happiness during the day. Mostly, Al just missed Score.

Al wished the Malfoys and Potters were friends, but the name "Malfoy" seemed to be taboo in the Potter household. Any time Al mentioned Scorpius, his mother's mouth would tighten and she would look at Al with disapproval. "I don't think it's a very good idea for you to get too close to that Malfoy boy, Al," she had said once.

"Why?" Al had asked. His mother had mentioned something like "bad blood" and rushed off to rescue Lily from pulling down a bookshelf. Al had vowed never to mention Score to her again.

Al's father wasn't much better. He didn't seem to mind Al talking about Scorpius, but he always got a strange look on his face, and his eyes would go to the dusty black box that sat on the mantle. It had been there for Al's entire life, and probably before that, as well. Al had opened the case a few times, and knew it contained a wand—one made of very dark wood. No one ever used it, and whenever Al asked to whom it belonged, his parents would always say, "No one." He supposed it was true, since it was never used.

When the Potters returned from their enforced holiday, Al and Score sent owls to each other, and met four times in Diagon Alley during trips they managed to coordinate. Al could hardly wait for second year.

Opening Gambit 

Scorpius Malfoy unleashed his strategy to become the Hufflepuff king as soon as their second year began. He announced his plan to Al on the train.

"We'll both join the Quidditch team. We couldn't do it last year, since we were too young, but this will be the beginning of our bid for greatness."

"How do you know we'll make the team?" Al asked worriedly. Score laughed before punching him on the arm.

"Come on, Al! Think of our parents! Your father was the youngest Seeker in a century. To hear some tell it, he could have been the best Seeker _ever_. Your mum played Quidditch too, right? And my father was a Seeker. To hear him tell it, he could have beaten your father, if not for all that Dark Lord business that kept your dad from playing. Either way, it's in our blood."

Al acknowledged that Score had a point. Quidditch was a popular sport amongst the Potters and Weasleys. Al had been riding a broom since he could walk, and playing Quidditch since he could fly.

"Did you find out why your father hates mine?" Al asked, thinking of their parents.

Scorpius grinned. "Yes, and it was very strange. I asked him why he hated Harry Potter and he looked quite surprised, and then he gave me that look he has when he's telling me something he doesn't really want me to know. And then he said, 'I don't hate Potter. Who told you that?' So I admitted that I might have overheard him ranting about 'the Great Potter' a few times, and he scowled and said that 'just because he thought someone was a glory-seeking, overrated, crass, oblivious half-wit did not mean he hated the person.' I made sure to write all that down."

"Wow, he said all that about my dad?"

"Yeah, and the odd thing is that he talks about your father all the time. I never really noticed until I met you. I'll bet he knows everything about Harry Potter. He certainly complains about him a lot, and he has a huge assortment of names for him. I didn't write those down—there were too many, and most were not very nice."

"I asked my dad if he hated yours, too. He sat down on the couch and got all serious and put his hand on my shoulder. He said, 'Of course not, Al. I don't hate anyone. What gave you the idea I hated Malfoy?' I told him it was James, of course, because… well I can blame James for just about anything, and my parents always buy it."

"That's because James is a prat ninety-seven percent of the time."

"True. Anyway, my dad said he didn't hate your dad, and that Draco Malfoy was just misunderstood. He said that no one ever really gave him a chance."

Score's eyebrows rose. "He said that? It almost sounds like your father actually _likes_ my father."

"It does, doesn't it? And since your dad said he doesn't hate my dad, maybe they'll let us see each other during the holidays!"

Score nodded. "Maybe we should start with _your_ dad, since he seemed a bit more sincere with the 'I don't hate him' story."

"I'll mention it to him when I write. We might as well get started now, if we plan to see each other during Christmas."

"Christmas won't work for us this year, since Father planned to take me to Switzerland over the holiday. But we will plan on next summer for certain. All right, that will be your assignment then, other than achieving a position on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Things will be looking up for us this year, Al," Score said. He dragged Al close with an arm around his shoulders, and his knuckles dragged through Al's hair, messing it up more than it already was. Al gave him an elbow to the stomach and Score laughed while he made a show of smoothing down Al's hair. He didn't take his arm from Al's shoulders, and Al rested his head against Score's neck.

James marched into the car and sneered at them.

"You two are so weird. Why are you always draped all over each other?"

"Jealous, Potter?" Score retorted easily as James threw himself in the seat across from them. Al's brother rolled his eyes.

"Couple of ponces. Where's Rose?"

Al said, "She stopped to have a chin wag with some of her girlfriends. Have you seen Amber and Zephyr?"

"No, I haven't seen any of your stupid Hufflepuff friends."

Several of James' friends burst into the car then, and the Gryffindors thankfully rushed off to have a look at some pretty new girl in a compartment farther along. Rose and her much quieter friends entered, as well as Amber and Zephyr Abbott. Al had dubbed the twins 'Score's Fan Club'.

"Hi Score. Hi Shadow," the girls intoned together. One of the girls sat by Score and one by Al to make a Hufflepuff sandwich. Score and the girls made small talk, and Al found himself drifting off to sleep, as usually happened whenever he leaned on Score's shoulder.

As Score had predicted, they both made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Madam Hooch had been delighted to see them both on the team, and mentioned she would be heartily glad to avoid the old Malfoy/Potter rivalry from the old days. Al had never seen Score on a broom, and the sight was breathtaking. He looked like a golden blur, chasing the Snitch. His dives and turns were pure grace in motion. Al was quick, too, but his specialty was aerial acrobatics. He managed some somersaults and rolls that had the other Hufflepuffs shouting with astonishment.

Score hovered near Al on his broom. They watched while another Hufflepuff zoomed across the field, and Score looked at Al.

"How did you learn to maneuver like that, Al?" he asked with a grin.

"Are you kidding? James's idea of Quidditch is braining me with a Bludger, or knocking me off my broom. He never even _tries_ to score. I can avoid nearly anything."

"They'll probably make you a Chaser, then."

Al nodded. He didn't care what position he got, as long as he could play.

"We made the team! Score is Seeker and I'm Keeper!" Al told Rose excitedly. She rolled her eyes. Rose would rather sit in the corner and read a book than even _watch_ a Quidditch game. It was unpatriotic and strange, really.

"You should see Al!" Score added. "With his moves, there is no way anyone will get the Quaffle into the goal! We'll have the House Cup this year, for certain."

"You haven't played a single game," Rose pointed out dryly, twisting a strand of her frizzy red hair around a finger.

"Let's go find James!" Al said excitedly. "I want to rub it in his face that we're both on the team!"

Quidditch and Questions 

The Hufflepuff team slaughtered the others in Quidditch. Scorpius was an astounding Seeker. The Gryffindors had excellent teamwork, but their Seeker was simply not quick enough. To top it off, it was a rare day when the Quaffle could make it past Albus Potter, so the other teams could not even hope to drive the score up before Malfoy caught the Snitch. Hufflepuff started the Quiddith season undefeated, and stayed that way.

In one game, Score played wickedly, keeping the Gryffindor Seeker away from the Snitch rather that snatching it, merely to prolong the game. Sean Finnegan, a Gryffindor Beater, charged Scorpius after the game, accusing him of "Slytherin tactics." Score laughed and flicked the golden edge of his cape toward Finnegan, who was restrained by his other teammates at the approach of Madam Hooch.

"_Hufflepuff_ tactics," Score had said deliberately.

"Slytherin in Hufflepuff clothing," James muttered, glaring at Al, but Al merely beamed and slung an arm around Score's shoulders. He thought Score was simply brilliant. Besides, he hadn't done anything wrong. The Gryffindors should be glad they had gotten to play longer. Score could have caught the Snitch in the first ten minutes of the game.

James was in a fine snit the next morning. Al sat down to breakfast at the Gryffindor table. James glared over the heaping plate of bacon and toast. "Why do you always sit here? Shouldn't you be with your Hufflepuff followers? And where is your Evil Overlord?"

Al grabbed a handful of bacon and a few pieces of toast. "Dad says I can sit wherever I want. You already know Score likes to sleep in on Sundays." He grinned. "But I'll be sure to mention the Overlord thing. He'll probably have badges made."

James rolled his eyes. "God, you two are such freaks. Poncy freaks, at that."

"Stop it, James," Rose said, giving him a _look_ over the Daily Prophet. She read the paper every morning, to keep abreast of things. Al and most of the Gryffindors relied on her for news. "I like it when Al sits here. We'd never see him otherwise."

James muttered something about "seeing the bloody git's face for the past twelve years" but he settled down in his seat and concentrated on his food. Sean Finnegan entered, and sneered at Al as he took a seat next to James. Rose leaned close to Al.

"Has Scorpius mentioned anything about his mother?" she asked quietly.

Al looked at her in confusion and shook his head. "No. Why would he?" Come to think of it, Score had never mentioned his mother at all, as far as Al could recall. It came as a bit of a shock to find he even _had_ a mother. Al had assumed she was dead. "Er… is she alive?"

Rose looked scandalized for a moment. "I thought he was your best friend, Al. How could you not know? Anyway, the gossip columns are generally filled with tripe, but sometimes they contain tidbits of truth. This article says Draco Malfoy's wife is moving to the south of France for health reasons. It says Score's dad plans to stay here and continue to run the Malfoy Empire. I wonder if there is more to the story."

Al bit his lip. He wondered if Score's mum was ill. Score had never said anything, so maybe it was serious. Score liked to keep serious things to himself; Al always had to drag important issues out of his friend. Al gnawed on his lip, and wondered if Score was worried about his mum. If anything happened to Al's mum, he'd be plenty worried, especially if she had to go to the Continent because of it.

"That seems really personal," Al said softly. "Why is it in the paper?"

Rose shrugged. "It's always news when rich pureblood families have troubles. People love to rub their noses in it. I think it makes them feel better about their own lives."

Al rose indignantly to Score's defense. "Well, that's just wrong! It's none of their business!" It was technically none of Al's business, either, but he figured he might try to pry some information out of Scorpius, for his own good. If Score suppressed some secret pain, Al would damn well make sure he dealt with it. Dad always said it was better to get things out in the open, because lying to yourself was just as bad as lying to others. Even worse, sometimes. Funny, but Al had never really understood that until now.

He didn't broach the subject until later that morning, when Score finally dragged himself out of bed and curled up next to Al on the sofa in the Hufflepuff common room. Al had brought back a plate of food and a pot of tea, just like he did every time Score slept in. Score rested his head against Al's shoulder and opened his mouth for Al to feed him bits of food. Al had to laugh. For such a dynamo of energy, Scorpius was almost ridiculously lethargic in the morning. He could barely function without two strong cups of tea and plenty of sugar.

Ethan Martinson, seated in a chair near the fireplace, made a snorting noise and mentioned something about Al being Score's personal house-elf. Score pointed his wand at Martinson and said, "Out, unless you plan to never have children."

It took a moment for Score's threat to sink it, but when it did, Ethan's eyes widened and he bolted. Al grinned. He didn't like Ethan very much.

"Jealous twit," Score grumbled. "Wants his own personal house-elf like mine."

Al socked him on the arm and Score chuckled. Al fed him a couple more bites of food, despite the house-elf comment.

"Score, is there something wrong with your mother?" Al asked quietly. Score stiffened against Al's side and moved away to look at him strangely.

"What do you mean?"

Al sighed. "There is something in the Daily Prophet this morning. About your mother moving to France… for her health, it says. I didn't even know your mother was… well, you never mentioned her."

Score sneered. "I barely have a mother. She is in London more than she's home. All she does is plan parties and buy clothing." Score raised an eyebrow and looked thoughtful. "Moving to France, eh? I wonder if Father finally gave her the boot."

Al was scandalized. He couldn't imagine his father giving his mother _the boot_. Then again, he really couldn't picture his red-haired mother planning parties or buying clothing, either. She normally just puttered around the house, cooking and taking care of Lily.

"Do your parents argue a lot?" Al asked.

"They've got to be in the same room to argue, don't they? I think my parents prefer to pretend the other doesn't exist."

Al could hardly fathom such a family. Although maybe ignoring each other would be preferable to the arguments his parents got into, on occasion. Al's mother had quite a temper, and she was quick to fly into a screaming rage. His quiet father would only put up with it for so long before bellowing back at her. At those times, Al and Lily would run into James's room and the three of them would huddle together, hoping the hexes did not start flying.

Al wondered if his parents got along better now that he and James were in school.


	3. Chapter 3

Malfoy Manor 

Al looked at his father hopefully.

"So, since you don't hate Score's dad and he doesn't hate _you_, can I go visit him this summer? If it's okay with Score's dad, I mean?"

Al's father's expression was really strange. He looked uncomfortable to the point of panic.

"Why don't you two like each other, anyway?" Al asked.

His dad got a faraway look in his eyes.

"It was a long time ago," he said finally. "School rivalry, Quidditch… and then the war."

Al winced. He hadn't meant to bring up the _war_. It always seemed to make Al's dad really sad.

"It's okay," his dad said with a smile. "It's probably past time to put it behind us. If it's all right with Malfoy, you can go visit your friend. I'll… talk to your mother."

He sounded less that thrilled about that prospect, and Al wondered why his mother would object to him visiting Scorpius. Just because she thought there was something wrong with having Malfoy blood did not mean Al would be infected by it. Adults were so weird.

An owl came from Score later that day, rather formally requesting Al's presence at Malfoy Manor for an extended stay. Al whooped and raced outside to fly crazy loops on his broom.

Al was bouncing with excitement when his father Apparated them to the front gates of Malfoy Manor. Al gasped, because the place was amazing, all wrought iron, brick, stately oaks, perfectly trimmed emerald grass, and white peacocks. It looked more like a palace or a museum than a house.

"Score lives here?" Al breathed.

"If you want to call it living," his father muttered. Al looked at him quickly, but his father just smiled and lifted a hand to the wrought iron gates. They slid open before he could touch them.

They walked up the seemingly endless gravel drive to the front door. Al's father knocked politely and the door was opened by a ragged looking house-elf. Al stared at it curiously. He had only seen one other house-elf in his life, and that was Kreacher. This one was a lot better looking than Kreacher, who always looked like he might drop dead at any moment.

"Mister Harry Potter and Mister Albus Potter shall be waiting in the antechamber. Master Malfoy shall be joining Mister Harry Potter shortly. Mister Albus Potter is not to be touching anything. Mister Harry Potter is recommended not to be touching anything, either."

Al wasn't sure what an antechamber was, but he happily followed the elf into a nearby room that was bigger than any room Al had ever seen in a house. Al tossed himself into a chair and grabbed a biscuit from a tray that had popped into existence on a nearby table.

His father looked distinctly uncomfortable and did not sit down, but paced, pretending to examine the porcelain figurines on the mantle. Al knew they were porcelain, because Aunt Hermione had some and Uncle Ron was constantly bellowing at James to "keep away from the bleedin' porcelain!"

"Al!" he heard suddenly, and turned to see Score in the doorway looking more clean and polished than Al could have managed on his way to a wedding. Al leaped out of the chair and launched himself at Scorpius. He nearly knocked over his best friend.

"Down, Al," Score reprimanded.

"Dad, you remember Scorpius?"

"Yes. Nice to see you again." He smiled, but the smile faded when his eyes flashed upward, moving from Score to the larger version that had appeared in the doorway.

Score's father looked the same as he always had, the few times Al had seen him: elegant and somewhat… icy.

"Potter," he said, and managed to make the name sound like something unpleasant.

"Malfoy," Al's father said in the same tone. Al suddenly remembered that day long ago in the bookstore, when Draco Malfoy's fists had been clenched in his father's robes. He hoped they did not start fighting again.

"Come upstairs, Al," Score hissed in his ear, "Before they change their minds!"

He grabbed Al's hand and they slipped out of the room. The last Al heard as the two boys ran for the stairs was a civil-sounding exchange.

"Would you like a drink, Potter?"

"God, yes. I mean… please."

Al thought it was rather strange, considering his father never drank, except for a single glass of eggnog at Christmas. Al put it out of his mind when they reached Score's room, and more than a hundred Quidditch action figures grabbed his attention.

"This is better than winning the House Cup!" Al said.

Score laughed. "I told you we would win the House Cup. Everything will be roses for Hufflepuff, now. We can't be beat in Quidditch."

"It didn't hurt that you instituted Study Time, either, I suppose," Al admitted grudgingly.

Al had objected quite strenuously when Score had appealed to the older Hufflepuffs with Ravenclaw-like logic, and created a specific time each evening for homework and studies. The older students helped the younger ones with homework and spells, which ended in better grades all around for Hufflepuffs. Scorpius had done so with an eye on the House Cup, of course, but it had benefited all of the Hufflepuffs, so Al's sense of justice was satisfied.

He only wished Score had excluded him from the Study Time rule.

Girl Troubles 

Al's third year started pleasantly enough. Quidditch trials were held, Al and Score firmly secured their positions, and Score lorded it over both younger and older classmates, well on his was to the Hufflepuff kingship he sought. Lily Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, as expected, much to the delight of James, who continued to treat Albus as some sort of aberration.

Things were nearly perfect, until sometime during the end of October, when Al's world began to fall apart.

That was when Scorpius Malfoy found a girlfriend.

She was, unsurprisingly, a Ravenclaw. She had long, jet black hair and a cute face with a pert nose. Her eyes were hazel, and fringed with black lashes that she batted at Score in a coy pretense.

When she first began to hang around with them, ostensibly to get Score's help with Arithmancy, Al didn't mind her so much. As Malfoy and his Shadow turned into Malfoy and his Shadow Plus One, Al started to get a bit annoyed.

"Does _she_ have to come with us?" Al snapped, watching her approach with her perky step and her happy wave. Her name was Rebecca, but Al only referred to her as _she_ or _her_.

Scorpius ignored him. "Beckers, my darling," he gushed. She blushed prettily.

"Hi Al," she said and gave him a cursory lash bat as she took Score's arm possessively. Al decided he hated her.

"Hi," he said grudgingly. He took Score's other arm. Score smiled at him, obviously pleased to be framed by his black-haired trophies. Al was used to sharing. He was a middle child with two siblings and a herd of cousins. He knew how to share.

But he did not like to share Scorpius.

For Score's sake, Al tolerated Rebecca. Not that he had much choice. He was terrified that if it came to making a decision between them, Scorpius would choose Rebecca. He was grateful for the classes they had without her and dreaded those that Score had with her, but not him.

He thanked Merlin and Hufflepuff and Dumbledore that she was a Ravenclaw and therefore had to leave every night to return to Ravenclaw Tower, leaving Al blessedly alone with his best friend.

"We need to find you a girlfriend, Al," Score decided one night when they sat before the Hufflepuff fire. Al's head was in Score's lap and he held a Muggle Studies scroll up to read while Score practiced Transfiguration on a teacup.

Al nearly dropped the scroll and he felt his stomach lurch.

"What?"

Score whispered a word and the teacup became a candlestick. "A girlfriend, silly. Like Beckers. What girls do you like? I'm sure any of them would be glad to have you, once we take a comb to this." He ran a hand through Al's unruly hair. "Not that it ever helps."

Al grabbed his hand to stop it yanking on his hair. He linked his fingers through Score's, trying to hold on to everything he felt slipping away. Al thought about Score's words. Girls. Al had never been remotely interested in girls.

"Surely you like someone, Al. Spill it."

Al mentally flitted through all the girls he knew. He crossed out everyone in Hufflepuff, knowing he would never allow a girl to intrude on his time with Scorpius. Amber and Zephyr Abbott were too much like sisters, anyway. Ravenclaw? He shuddered. Those brainy girls always made him feel like an idiot. The girls in Gryffindor seemed too boisterous and intimidating. And James would tease them mercilessly.

He finally snatched on the only logical choice.

"Angelica Parkinson," he said. Score laughed.

"Damn, Al. You shoot for the moon, don't you? And a Slytherin? You're definitely brave enough to have been sorted into Gryffindor."

Angelica Parkinson was beautiful. She had long, straight, silver-blonde hair, set off by pale eyes and skin. She was rumored to be ruthless and smart, with a wicked tongue. She reminded Al of Scorpius.

"Well, she's the one. If I have to have a girlfriend, I might as well get the best, right?"

"I never said you had to have a girlfriend, Al," Score said dryly, but the gauntlet had been thrown.

The pursuit of Angelica Parkinson lasted until February. She laughed in Al's face. She vowed never to have anything to do with a Hufflepuff. She went out with an endless succession of boys in every house but his, and delighted in kissing them in front of Al. Oddly, she seemed annoyed when Al didn't seem to care. He would smile and shrug, and clap the "lucky guy" on the shoulder.

"Maybe you should give up, Al," Score advised one evening after Angelica had tripped Al on the stairs. The fall had ended in a trip to the hospital wing. Al looked at Score angrily. The blond's lips were red from snogging Rebecca in the Front Hall. In that moment, Al felt something akin to hate for his clueless friend.

The next morning at breakfast, Al walked straight to the Slytherin table, sat next to Angelica Parkinson, and planted a kiss full on her lips.

"You are going out with me now, and you're going with me to Hogsmeade on Valentine's weekend, and if you have a problem with that, I'll hex a baboon's ass on the face of your next twenty boyfriends."

Angelica looked quite dazed and nodded. Al stalked to the Hufflepuff table and sat next to Score, who stared at him with much the same expression Angelica wore.

"Bloody hell, Al. I'm impressed."

"That makes one of us," Al snapped. He ate his breakfast and went to class. He took Angelica Parkinson to Hogsmeade with Score and _her_ and ate cute frosted cakes cut into heart shapes. He obediently snogged Angelica outside the Slytherin common room and listened to the good-hearted ribbing from his Hufflepuff classmates, Score included. Al settled into couplehood with the same placidity he approached everything else… and hated every minute of it.

Every night, Al would curl up next to Score on the Hufflepuff couch, drape himself over his friend, and let the sight, sound, and scent of him drown the heartache.

Al had finally admitted to himself that Score was the only one he wanted, but he hadn't a clue in hell what to do about it.

The summer before Al's fourth year was almost a relief. He thought maybe he just needed a break from Scorpius, and he definitely needed a break from Angelica Parkinson. While he enjoyed his respite from school and the pressure of his friends, things were equally tense at home.

His parents seemed to be constantly fighting. Al's mother was enraged that his father spent more and more time at work—some nights he did not come home at all. Al's father would yell back about responsibility and duty and things Al didn't really understand. He wished they would just stop fighting.

James dealt with the tension by getting into trouble. When he set fire to a tree in the backyard, their parents shipped him off to spend the rest of the summer with their Uncle George. George was a notorious prankster, but he knew how to keep James in line. Al was happier without his brother's abrasive presence and constant sarcasm, although he missed having someone to play Quidditch with. Lily was getting better, but she tended to hex Al whenever she got angry—which was a lot—and she seldom got in trouble for doing so.

One afternoon when his father was actually at home, Al retreated outside with Lily to escape the shouting of his parents, which had started just after breakfast.

"Why do they fight so much?" Lily asked him as she climbed the apple tree. She wasn't supposed to, because she always tore her robes or scraped her knees, but she had a tendency to do whatever she wanted, just like James.

"I don't think they like each other any more," Al said.

Lily hung upside down from a branch. Al held his wand ready, in case she fell.

"But they're married!"

"That doesn't mean they have to like each other. Think about it—when was the last time they did anything together, just the two of them?"

Al thought it explained a lot, actually. He knew how important time alone was to a relationship—god, did he ever know after hanging around as a _couple_ for four months—and he couldn't recall his parents ever going anywhere without Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, or Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, or Uncle George and his Date-of-the-Week, as they called his numerous girlfriends.

It made Al sad, but it was worse to see his father's pensive expression when he thought no one was watching. It was so full of sadness and longing that Al's heart would constrict. Sometimes his father looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world. At those times, Al thought it very likely that he would wake up one day and his father would be gone.

"Lily! Let's go!" his mother yelled from the back door. His sister dropped obediently out of the tree. She trotted into the house, earning a pat on the head from their father, who exited the door as Lily entered.

Al watched his father approach. The handsome face was set in tense lines.

"Al, how would you like to go visit your friend Scorpius?"

Al's heart leaped and he grinned widely.

"Would I? Yeah!"

They Apparated to the front gates, and Al was surprised to see Score's dad waiting for them inside the wrought iron.

"Potter," said Draco Malfoy curtly. He looked at Al with a hint of a smile. "Shorter Potter."

Al glared at him. "I'll be as tall as my dad someday!"

The elder Malfoy laughed and ruffled Al's hair. "I'm sure you will. Scorpius is already out back with the brooms. Apparently he expects you to play Quidditch."

Al let out a whoop and raced for the house. On the steps, he paused and looked back. He was surprised to see his father and Score's still standing before the gates. Draco Malfoy's hands were on Al's father's shoulders and his father's hands gripped Mr. Malfoy's wrists. Their heads were so close together that their foreheads nearly touched, and the silver hair brushed against the black.

For a moment, Al had a strange premonition—that was how he and Score would look when they were old, if they were still friends. It was an oddly tender scene, and Al wondered when Draco Malfoy and his father had stopped disliking each other and become friends.

Al shrugged it off and went to find Score.

Tricks and Lies 

Al's fourth year began bizarrely. Score hurried to seek out "Beckers" the minute they boarded the Hogwart's Express, and discovered her sitting with another bloke. After a screaming match in the corridor that sent gossip burning like wildfire up and down the train, Score broke up with the devastated Ravenclaw girl, much to Al's utter delight.

Score spent the remainder of the train ride in a simmering snit. Al kept his arm around the angry blond and made soothing noises to keep him from savaging their Hufflepuff friends that huddled across from them and watched Score fearfully.

When they exited the train to board the horseless carriages (even though Al knew they were pulled by invisible horse-like creatures), a black and green flurry of motion erupted before Al. A ringing slap echoed among the carriages, and Al blinked at Angelica Parkinson's enraged visage.

"You lousy Hufflepuff cretin!" she snarled. "Not one owl _all summer_! And you don't even have the decency to seek me out on the _train_? I hate you, Albus Potter! We are _through_!"

Al rubbed his cheek and watched her flounce away with her glaring friends in tow. In truth, Al hadn't thought of her once all summer.

He grinned at Score. "Looks like we're both single again."

Al was ecstatic for all of three weeks, which was how long it took Score to find Girlfriend Number Two. Al had thought Rebecca was bad, but now he almost went to Ravenclaw and begged her to do whatever it took to get Score back, because Elladora Greengrass was purest evil. She was a Slytherin. In Al's opinion was as pretty and vicious as a black mamba. To make matters worse, she was a very good friend of Angelica Parkinson, and therefore went well out of her way to make Al's life a living hell, all in the name of friendly retaliation.

Naturally, Score didn't see Elladora's viciousness at all. He thought her biting comments were amusing and told Al to lighten up. Though they had been friends since they were eight years old, the Slytherin witch began to inexorably drive a wedge between them. Like all good Slytherin plans, it started out slowly and subtly, and Al was caught in its web before he sensed the full danger. By then it was far too late.

"I know someone that likes you, Al," Elladora said at breakfast one morning, even though she hated sitting at the Hufflepuff table. She smirked and continued, "A Ravenclaw."

Al made a noncommittal sound, not caring, and wishing she would shut up and leave. Score perked up.

"Really? Who is it, Ellie? Al needs to get over Angelica and move on. Who is she?"

Elladora laughed, a sound that Score found adorable and Al likened to a sarcophagus lid scraping shut.

"Who said it was a _she_?"

Silence reigned at the table and Al's face flamed. She had spoken loudly enough to halt conversation in a wide radius. Elladora calmly buttered her toast, as if oblivious to the effect of her words.

She caught Al's eye and said, "I didn't think Al would mind."

Score turned his beautiful silver eyes to Al speculatively, as if the concept had never before occurred to him. Al wanted to climb under the table and die. He wanted to hex Elladora Greengrass into her namesake and feed it to a herd of filthy camels.

"Your girlfriend is hilarious, Score. Top notch." Al glared at Elladora, who smiled at him and flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder before pressing a lingering kiss into Score's cheek. All of the saltshakers on the Hufflepuff table exploded.

The other Hufflepuff's leaped back in alarm, talking excitedly. Al didn't move, and Elladora Greengrass smiled knowingly at him.

Al should have known it wouldn't stop there. The litany of lies began shortly thereafter. Elladora caught him outside the History of Magic classroom.

"Score wants to see you on the Quidditch pitch," she said. His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away, as if the very act of speaking to him was beneath her. She probably thought it was.

He hurried to the Quidditch pitch, knowing he'd be late for his next class, but Score was nowhere to be found. He raced back to the castle and hurried in, quite late, to Charms class, only to find Score sitting in his usual spot watching him curiously. Professor Flitwick deducted points from Hufflepuff for Al's tardiness.

"Where were you?" Score whispered. Al felt a sudden rush of rage.

"At the Quidditch pitch! Where the hell were you?"

His words drew the attention of Flitwick once more, and Al shut his mouth with a snap. After class, Al confronted Score.

"If Ella told you to meet me there, you must have heard her wrong," Score said placidly.

"I did not hear her wrong! She's an evil, lying, little—"

"That's enough, Al! I'm tired of hearing you talk about her that way."

Al backed down. Score seldom yelled at him, and it made his stomach clench into tight knots.

Ella slithered up then, and clung to Score like a diseased, abnormal growth.

"Darling, did you tell Al to meet me on the Quidditch pitch?" Score asked.

"Of course not. I asked if he planned to play Quidditch later. Just making conversation. You know I'm trying to get along with Al, for your sake." Her dark eyes dared Al to speak. Al's sparked at her in rage, though he knew it was useless to argue.

"See there? Just a misunderstanding," Score said and beamed at Ella. She kissed him.

"I need to go throw up," Al said roughly and walked away.

Two days later, Al was in Potions when one of the Ravenclaw girls flicked something into his cauldron. Al stared at her in shock. The girl shrugged.

"Sorry, a Slytherin girl said she'd hex me bald if I didn't do it."

Al blinked at his ruined potion and suddenly shoved it off the table in a fit of frustration. He didn't even care that the action earned him detention. Nothing was worse than the look of puzzlement on Score's face, and knowing Al could not confide in him.

When Al left the Potions classroom that night after monotonously sorting and classifying hundreds of slimy, dusty, or foul-smelling ingredients, he was surprised to bump into Edward Carmichael. Al expected to see Slytherins in the dungeons, but it was unusual to run into a Ravenclaw there at such a late hour. It was nearing curfew, and Ravenclaw Tower was a long jaunt even at a dead run.

About to brush by Eddie, Al was startled when the boy reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, Potter! Erm… Albus?"

Al waited expectantly, impatient to get back to the Hufflepuff common room and curl up next to Score. He felt like everything was slipping away from him and he didn't know how to stop it. Carmichael stepped uncomfortably close and leaned even closer to Al. For a moment, Al wondered if he had a smudge or something on his face, because of the intent way Eddie looked at him.

"Al, I just want you to know… Well, you deserve better than Malfoy. He treats you like shite, and he's obviously into girls, anyway. The way he flaunts that Slytherin bitch on his arm…"

Al could not quite follow the path Eddie Carmichael's words were taking, even though he warmed to Carmichael when he heard the disparaging comment about Elladora.

"Although she is the one that told me you fancied me, and that I might actually have a chance with you, which is what gave me the guts to meet you here and do this."

With that, Eddie Carmichael pressed Al roughly against the wall and put his lips against Al's. Sheer astonishment kept Al from reacting for a moment, which seemed to encourage Carmichael. A tongue was shoved into Al's mouth, nearly gagging him. At the same time, a hand groped at the front of Al's trousers.

Wrenched from his shock at last, Al struggled, and made a muffled sound of protest. Carmichael's hand dug into Al's cock and Al suddenly found the strength to shove him away. Carmichael stepped back for only a moment. His eyes were slightly glazed and his lips were wet.

"I want you so much, Albus," he said thickly, and reached for him. Al hit him.

Carmichael fell to his knees and Al stared at him in horror. Eddie looked at him in shock, with blood trickling from a split lip that was already beginning to swell. Carmichael surged to his feet.

"Fuck you, Potter! No one is good enough for you but that blond bastard? He'll never want you!"

Carmichael swung blindly at Al, who hit him again, giving thanks that he had an older brother and had learned to defend himself without using a wand. Al punched him again, slamming Eddie back to the ground. Before Carmichael could rise, Al bolted.

He raced up the stairs and across the hall to the Hufflepuff common room. It was empty but for Score, who looked up from his book and smiled. Al tried to compose himself, but he was shaking and his knuckles ached. He sat on the couch next to Score, who set the book aside quickly.

"Al, what is it?" he asked.

"Car… Car…" Fuck, he was stuttering. Al took a shuddering breath. "Eddie Carmichael." Al nearly said, "Carmichael forced himself on me," but that sounded like he was some weak girl that had been taken advantage of. "He kissed me," Al finished lamely, knowing it did not begin to express the shock and outrage he felt. Not at all, in fact, because Score began to laugh.

"Oh Al, that is priceless."

Al glared at him, feeling betrayed and ready to burst into tears. "It is not! It was horrible!"

"Even the blokes are after you, you silly git. You're the Hufflepuff Sex Symbol." Score sounded awed. Al looked away, fighting the emptiness that threatened to overtake him. He had always expected Score to be there for him; he had always counted on Score to understand.

"This isn't funny, Score. He attacked me and I hit him."

Score broke into peals of laughter. "Eddie Carmichael, a sex-starved maniac! Oh, this is rich!"

Al threw himself to his feet. "Stop it, Scorpius! I can't fucking talk to you at all anymore! That Slytherin bitch-cur of yours told Carmichael that I fancied him!"

Score's laughter silenced the instant Al insulted Elladora.

"Leave her out of this, Al," he warned.

"Why are you always defending her?" Al shouted. "She hates my guts and you let her do whatever she wants to drive a wedge between us! She lies constantly! She ruined my potion today for no reason other than spite! She concocts horrible stories about me—!"

"Stop it, Al! You're making that up!" Score yelled.

"Why would I do that?" Al screamed. He flailed his hands to keep them from tearing at his hair. "Why would I fucking do that?"

"Because you're jealous!" Score countered in a hiss. "You're jealous of Ella because she has me, and you can't, and you're pissed because you can't make me like you that way. Well, news flash, Al, I'm _not_ like you! I like girls, okay? _Girls_!"

Al stared at him, and the feeling of everything sliding away from him suddenly grew until it encompassed his entire world. He felt like he was at the center of a vortex with nothing to hold onto, nothing to keep him from drowning. Darkness flickered at the edges of his vision, and he backed away from Score blindly, fighting the urge to succumb to the dark. Only the knowledge that he was a Potter kept him upright. His father had defeated the Darkest wizard of all time. That same blood flowed through Al's veins.

"Al…" Score reached out to him, looking suddenly stricken. Holding onto the thought of his father with every bit of strength he possessed, Al turned and walked away.

In the dorm room, he undressed and climbed into his bed without thinking of anything at all. When Score came in a few minutes later and whispered his name, Al feigned sleep until Score gave up and got into his own bed.

Al stared into the darkness for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Ravenclaw Revenge 

Al rose early the next morning and made his way to the Great Hall. It was still nearly dark, and only a few early risers were up. Rose Weasley was one of them, poring over some huge tome while she sipped at a glass of pumpkin juice and nibbled on toast.

She looked at him in surprise when he sat down next to her.

"Albus! You're up early."

She slid him a plate of food and he put a scone on his plate.

"Yeah. Going to practice some Quidditch moves," he said lamely.

Rose laughed. "Why? Hufflepuff has been undefeated ever since you and Score joined the team."

Al grinned. "Well, we mustn't get sloppy."

Rose went back to her book and Al slowly shredded the scone. His stomach was in knots. He had never fought with Score before, never seriously, at any rate. He kept hearing Score's voice echoing in his head. _I'm not like you_. Al pushed away from the table, feeling sick.

"Al? What's wrong?" Rose asked suddenly. He forced a smile and regretted sitting next to her. She had always been far too perceptive.

"Nothing. Too early to eat. Back later."

He escaped and walked down to the lake. He watched the sun rise while tossing pebbles aimlessly into the water. Al wondered if Score and Carmichael were right. Maybe he was… like that. He had never liked kissing Angelica Parkinson, but he hadn't liked kissing Eddie Carmichael, either. Al thought about kissing Scorpius, and felt a sudden rush of heat that left him gasping. Okay, that was interesting. So, he wouldn't mind kissing Score. That probably had something to do with the fact that Al loved Score. Al had always loved him.

He scooped up a handful of tiny pebbles and let them slip through his fingers. It didn't matter, anyway. Score liked _girls_, as he had so adamantly informed Al. Score thought it was _funny_ when Al was attacked by a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy.

Al stood and brushed his robes off before dusting his hands together. He supposed it was past time for him to stop being Malfoy's Shadow and start being Albus Potter.

Score and Elladora were snogging outside of Charms. Al ignored them both and went to his seat. Score slipped in beside him a minute later.

"You okay?" Score asked quietly and reached out to touch Al's arm. Al pulled away, pretending to reach for his quill.

"Fine," he said evenly. He avoided Score's eyes, not trusting himself to meet that clear silver gaze. _I'm not like you_, Al thought.

He sensed Score's anxiety, but then Professor Flitwick entered and they all focused on performing Lightning Charms. Al was thankful that the spell took a lot of concentration. When class was finished, Al grabbed his things and bolted. He ran all the way to Potions and quickly stood next to Jackson, a Hufflepuff Beater, and animatedly talked Quidditch until Professor Harbinger entered and forced Al into his seat next to Score.

As they gathered ingredients to prepare a Silencing Potion, Score leaned close to Al.

"Look, stop avoiding me. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay," said Al pleasantly, and concentrated on slicing his mugwort into perfect sections. He paid little attention to Score after that, and quickly packed his bag after placing his potion on Harbinger's desk.

He meant to hurry to History of Magic, but Score caught his arm before he could escape. Al wanted to tear away, but he stood placidly, not wanting to make a scene.

"Al, come on," Score said. "I said I was sorry."

Al met the grey eyes finally, trying to keep his features immobile. He wanted nothing more than to break down and wrap himself around Score, but then he saw Elladora approach out of the corner of his eye. "Don't worry about it," he said evenly, and then he did jerk away from Score's grip. "Here comes your girlfriend. Better not let her see you talking to me. She might get the wrong idea, eh?" Al laughed coldly and walked away. He bypassed Elladora as though she did not exist and went to History of Magic, where he immediately pretended to fall asleep.

Al ate lunch at the Gryffindor table. Score did not try to talk to him in any of his afternoon classes. Al ate dinner with the Gryffindors, as well, and then accompanied Rose back to the Gryffindor common room, where he played a few games of wizard chess with Hugo, while Lily talked Al's ear off. He realized he'd been neglecting his family while spending all of his time with Scorpius. Strangely, he hadn't missed them nearly as much as he missed Score.

A week passed in much the same way. Al spent every spare moment with the Gryffindors. He barely spoke to Scorpius, who retreated into sullen silence behind a barrier of ice. Al avoided looking at Elladora completely, because the triumph in her eyes made him want to use an Unforgivable. Al stayed in the Gryffindor common room until close to curfew each night, before racing back to the Hufflepuff dorm where he went straight to bed.

Rose tried to pry information out of him, especially when a few days grew into a week with no change. Even James stopped harassing him and started to shoot him worried looks. Al thought about going elsewhere, but the Slytherin common room was out of the question, as was Ravenclaw, thanks to Carmichael. Al was stuck in the Gryffindor common room, or wandering the grounds.

One night Al found himself aimlessly roaming the corridors. James had been in a nasty mood after Hufflepuff had destroyed Gryffindor in Quidditch. Even though Al and Score were not on speaking terms, it hadn't affected their playing. Score was as ruthless as ever and although Al spent more of the game watching the Seeker through wistful eyes, he paid enough attention to stop any Quaffles sent toward the hoops. He played with almost lazy indifference.

James had evidently hoped Hufflepuff would be off their game, and as soon as Al entered the Gryffindor common room, he had started on his catalog of brotherly insults until Rose told him off. Al had decided to leave rather than cause a row.

He walked slowly down the stairs. He still had perhaps forty-five minutes until curfew, and he had no intention of going back to the Hufflepuff common room this early—no doubt Score would be in his usual place on the couch, unless he was in the Front Hall snogging the devil-girl.

Al was partway down a set of stairs when a figure emerged from the shadows at the bottom of the flight. He paused for a moment, catching sight of Ravenclaw blue, then breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Eddie Carmichael. Al continued down, but stopped again when the boy called up to him.

"Oi, Potter." Something in the boy's face caused a curl of dread to twist itself around his gut. Al recognized him as a Fifth Year, but could not recall his name. He was a much larger, bullying sort of Ravenclaw. Normally the bullies were Slytherin, but each House seemed to have a handful of the brutish sort. Score kept the Hufflepuff muscle in line.

Al turned, deciding that flight was the better part of valor in this instance. He had taken a single step up when another Ravenclaw appeared at the top of the stairs, effectively cutting off his escape. Al pulled his wand out, but a loud "_Expelliarmus_!" sent the length of ash flying out of his hand, and out of sight over the stair railing. Al spun to find that a second boy had joined the bully at the bottom. His unease quickly turned to fear. He was wandless against three of them.

"What do you want?" he said, borrowing Score's best disdainful tone.

"We're just here to get a little revenge for Eddie," said Muscles. The boy next to him was also of the larger variety. They looked similar, except the new one wore a diamond earring.

"Eddie was an okay bloke until you turned him into a ponce, Potter," said Earring.

"How did you do that, Potter? Was it a spell?"

The two at the bottom advanced and Al backed toward the wall, trying to keep them all in sight. He could see no escape, except to launch himself over the railing, but he was in between the fourth and fifth floors. Without his wand, such a fall would kill him.

Al felt the metallic taste of panic grip him as they came closer.

"Or are you really a girl under all that pretty black hair, Potter?" the one above him asked. Al glanced at him nervously, trying to memorize his face, but he could only note that he had sandy hair and somewhat droopy eyes. He reached for Al, who dodged away, still limber even without a broom. Al darted around Sandy-hair and leaped up the stairs, but the boy caught the edge of Al's robe, bringing him down. Al's shin banged into a step with a lance of pain.

Someone—the big one, it felt like—was on him in an instant, forcing the air out of his lungs. A hand clenched in Al's hair and dragged his head back until his neck muscles strained in protest. A wand tip pressed into his cheek.

"Not a sound Potter, or it will go worse for you."

_Worse than what_? he thought wildly, but then he could breathe again as the weight left him. Al would have cried out, wand or no wand, but he heard nothing that indicated the presence of anyone that could help him, neither students nor teachers.

"We were getting tired of waiting for you, Potter. This is the first time in days you've been out early enough for us to catch you," said Earring. They marched Al up the stairs and down a long corridor, away from the well-used areas. Al did not know what they planned, but he had no intention of allowing himself to be taken somewhere private.

He twisted, ignoring the handful of hair torn out in the process, and slammed his fist—_hard_—into the gut of Muscles, who doubled over, retching. Al bolted, running as fast as he could, only to fly ass over teakettle when a Trip Jinx caught him. He nearly cracked his skull on the stone floor, and he screamed when pain exploded through the wrist he threw out to stop himself. The scream was cut off abruptly when a Full-body Bind hit him. Al was unable to move or speak, although pain still pulsed through him from his wrist. He was suddenly acquainted with even more pain when Muscles slammed a booted foot into his ribs.

Al would have screamed long and loud as agony coursed through him. As it was, he was unable to make a sound. Tears welled into his eyes and spilled over.

"That fucking _hurt_!" Muscles growled and punctuated the last word with another kick. Blackness flickered at the edges of Al's vision and the white-hot pain made him feel nauseous. He was suddenly terrified of vomiting, because he could choke to death.

"Let's see if he's really a girl under those clothes," Sandy-hair said. He knelt down and ripped Al's shirt open to expose his chest.

"Looks like a bloke to me," said Earring. Al felt a hand caress his chest and abdomen and wanted to shudder in terrified revulsion. Fingers roughly pinched his nipples, hard enough to bring new tears to Al's eyes. "If she's a girl, she doesn't have much for tits."

"Maybe we should check the other bits," Sandy-hair suggested, and Al felt the mood change from malicious to something even darker. Earring licked his lips and his eyes held something Al did not like at all. If Al could have spoken, he would have begged for mercy, anything to avoid what he feared was coming.

They would most likely kill him when it was over. Students had disappeared from Hogwarts before. It was a dangerous place. Students could wander down to the lake and drown, or get lost in forgotten passages, or walk in the forest and never come back.

As cold hands fumbled at Al's trousers, his thoughts went immediately to Score. He regretted not making up with Scorpius, and he definitely regretted that he might never see him again.

A high-pitched scream suddenly echoed in the dark corridor, freezing Al's attackers. Sandy-hair lurched to his feet and fled. Earring cursed and did the same, but Muscles face twisted with hatred as he glared down at Al.

"Fucking ponce!" he snarled and slammed a meaty fist into Al's mouth. Al thought he must be getting immune to pain, because he hardly felt it, even though he tasted blood immediately. The Ravenclaw stood and aimed a final kick at Al, this time catching him just behind the temple. Al felt no pain at all; he just saw a burst of color that almost instantly turned to blackness. He gladly surrendered to it as the shrieking went on and on.

Forgiveness 

Al did not want to wake up. He felt like he floated in a cloud, warm and peaceful. He dreamed of a comforting body pressed against his side, and the brush of soft lips on his. The essence of the dream was Scorpius.

Al sighed, feeling himself reluctantly pulled toward consciousness. He blinked slowly, but only darkness met his gaze. For a moment, he wondered if he had gone blind, but the calm of the dream stayed with him, and the thought did not induce panic. The sensation of a warm body remained and soft hair tickled his chin. He felt a hand upon his chest, with fingers splayed as though trying to cover the most area.

Al focused abruptly on his surroundings, shaking off the dreamlike mist. Where the hell was he? He turned his head slightly, trying not to dislodge the person sleeping against him. Dim lights dotted the room and he recognized the place instantly. The hospital wing at Hogwarts. Remembrance slammed into him, along with a savage ache in his side. He must have moved slightly in reaction, for the body next to his shifted and the soft hair brushed over his skin again. It was Score.

A rush of warmth filled Al and he looked down in wonder, but nothing was visible except the pale hand on his chest, looking disembodied. Score had nicked Al's invisibility cloak. He had sneaked in here and fallen asleep on Al's bed! Al smiled softly, thinking it was more than worth a beating to have Score next to him again.

Al raised his hand to touch the unseen cloak. He grasped the folds and pulled it back gently until Score's face was revealed. The movement awakened Score, and the pale head lifted until the grey eyes met Al's. Anguish was clearly visible on his friend's face.

"Al?" he whispered quietly.

"Last time I checked," Al joked, and was surprised when the simple act of speaking set up a dreadful pounding in his head. He vaguely recalled a booted foot slamming into his temple.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Scorpius said in a tone Al had never heard before. The hand on Al's chest moved convulsively. "If I'd been with you, this never would have happened."

"It's all right," Al said softly.

"No. It's not all right, Al. Who did this to you? When I get my hands on the fuckers that dared to lay a finger on you, they'll wish they had never come to Hogwarts!" Score's voice had changed, from soft and apologetic to rock hard with overtones of violence.

Al was surprised at his question. From the screaming when Al had gone down, he had thought the three Ravenclaw boys would have been apprehended. He hesitated.

"Tell me, Al. I'll kill them. I swear I'll kill them for this."

Though Al felt a pleasant warmth at Score's defense, he was reluctant to reveal his attackers. He thought Score might actually kill the Ravenclaws, and then Score would be in trouble.

"Did Madam Pomfrey tell you what happened?"

"No. I knew she wouldn't, so I grabbed your cloak as soon as I heard the news. I ran up here as fast as I could and I heard her talking to McGonagall. Peeves sent up the alarm when he saw someone attacking you, but by the time McGonagall got there, they were gone. You had broken ribs, a concussion, and several of your teeth had been knocked out."

Al poked his tongue nervously at his teeth, but found them all intact. He breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Madam Pomfrey said there was internal damage, which is why they kept you here. They gave you all sorts of potions. Who did it, Al?" Score asked again.

"I should probably wait and tell Headmistress McGonagall," Al said quietly.

Score's eyes flashed.

"Don't protect them, Al."

"I'm not protecting them. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Don't be stupid," Score snapped, but the look in his eyes softened again. "You're such an idiot. Stop worrying about me at a time like this." Al could practically see the wheels turning, and he knew Score planned to bide his time, but eventually, he would seek revenge. Sometimes Score was so Slytherin-like the yellow he wore was green-tinted. "Why did they attack you?"

Al's warm feeling dissipated. He would have drawn back from Score, if he could have moved without pain. The memory returned with all the mental anguish he had felt for days. Elladora had started it all. She had been the one to tell Eddie Carmichael that Al fancied him. She was the serpent in Al's paradise. Al dared not mention her name. Not again, not when Score was here with him. He silently vowed never to argue with Score over a girl again. He would not care if Score had a thousand girlfriends, as long as that look never left his eyes when he gazed at Al.

"It doesn't matter."

Score hissed. "It does matter, Al! Stop acting like a damned Gryffindor!"

The sharp sound of his voice roused a nearby patient, who moaned and rolled over in his bed. Scorpius glared.

"I can't tell you why they attacked me, Score. You wouldn't believe me anyway, so just let it lie. It's enough that you're here with me."

Score's eyes narrowed and he drew in a breath, probably ready to defend even an unspoken slur against his precious Elladora. Al put a finger against Score's lips.

"Shush," he said quietly. "It doesn't matter."

Score's jaw clenched, but his eyes slid away. He laid his head against Al's shoulder again and the hand stroked gently over Al's chest.

"All right, Al. You win. Try to get some sleep. I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep, and then I'll come back in the morning as soon as they admit people without borrowed invisibility cloaks."

Al shut his eyes, feeling safe once more, and did as Score suggested.

Retribution 

When Al left the hospital wing, he noticed rather quickly that things had changed. Scorpius was almost ludicrously overprotective, to the point of glaring at other Hufflepuffs that dared to speak to Al. Outside the common room, it was even stranger. Scorpius and James took turns hovering over him, and even spent time whispering together like long-time conspirators.

Al had refused to give up a Pensieve memory, but he had given descriptions of the boys under Veritaserum. All three Ravenclaws were suspended indefinitely, but rumors of a strange illness came back to Hogwarts. Stories varied, but the most common tale was of a strange, buttock-rotting disease that seemed resistant to all treatment. Al was given a very wide berth from other students after that, as most believed him responsible; him or Scorpius Malfoy.

Al's first confrontation with Elladora Greengrass after the incident was something of a surprise. Al, Score, Al's siblings, and most of Al's Weasley relatives were milling in the Front Hall after breakfast, waiting for their first class, when Elladora approached and gave Scorpius her usual possessive kiss. She smiled at Al.

"So nice to see you, Albus," she said in a tone that dripped insincerity. Al glared at her, but said nothing. He smiled at Score instead, to show his newfound resolve not to fight with Score's girlfriend. He would simply pretend she did not exist.

"Ella, you did not help to instigate the attack on Al, did you?" Scorpius asked. Two sets of shocked eyes looked at Score, who added, "Because I will be extraordinarily annoyed if I discover you did."

Elladora gaped at him. "How can you suggest such a thing? Has Albus been filling your head with lies about me, again? You know he hates me."

"Al does not lie, especially to me. Perhaps we should procure some Veritaserum and determine who is the least truthful." Score's voice was cold, and he sounded so much like the elder Malfoy that Al blinked at him for a moment. Mr. Malfoy would be so pleased.

"I can get some," James drawled from behind Al.

Elladora flushed angrily. "Honestly, Scorpius, I don't know what you're playing at, hanging around with these half-bloods and blood traitors! We are purebloods! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Score's eyes narrowed. "Not really, no. Some of your precious pureblood friends attacked Al. If I thought for a moment that you were involved—"

"Well, obviously you _do_, or you wouldn't accuse me like this!" she cried. "You had better take care, Scorpius! The day is coming when blood will tell! You'll see!"

She flounced away after producing tears that were guaranteed fake. Al had a sister, he knew when tears were real.

"What the hell was that?" Scorpius asked. Al was just as puzzled, but Rose Weasley piped up. "Some pureblood group has been causing trouble for the Ministry. It was started because of backlash from the anti-pureblood sentiment caused by the war. It's wrong that purebloods have largely been barred from Ministry positions, but it's equally wrong to go around Muggle-baiting and hurting people."

Al stared at Rose. "How do you know all that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I pay attention at home, Al. Mum is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, remember? She's been talking about it for months. For pity's sake, who do you think it was that nearly killed your father last—" She stopped as an elbow from James caught her in the ribs. The color drained from her face.

"What do you mean 'nearly killed' dad?" Al rounded hotly on his brother. "James, did you know?"

"Thanks a lot, motormouth," James griped to Rose, who had a hand clapped to her mouth. Thankfully, Lily looked just as puzzled as Al. James sighed. "Dad didn't want to worry you two. He's fine. Teddy and Eric stopped the hex and got him help on time."

Al vowed to have a stern chinwag with his father when he returned home for the summer. He looked at James worriedly, knowing his brother speak plainly now that the truth was out. "How dangerous is this group?"

"No more dangerous than any of the other insane groups dad deals with, Al. You know it's his job."

"I wish he would get a new job," Lily said, echoing Al's sentiment. "Maybe he and mum would not fight so much."

Al was not sure a new job would salvage his father's relationship with his mother. Al was old enough to know that something was not at all right between them. Frankly, his father seemed a dozen times more relaxed and content when they were at the Malfoys. It was really too bad Score's father was not a girl.

"How does your father feel about Polyjuice?" Al asked speculatively, causing them all to look at him in confusion.

"Al, either some of the potions Pomfrey gave you have a lingering effect, or one of the blows you took gave you brain damage." Score put an arm around Al's neck and dragged him close. "Let's get to class. Try not to say anything stupid for awhile."

James barked a laugh. "Good luck with that one."


	5. Chapter 5

Animosity 

Quidditch, thankfully, took up much of their time as they prepared for the final game against Ravenclaw, who had ramped up their aggression following the incident that had resulted in three of their number being expelled. They had nearly turned into a threat. Score worked the Hufflepuff team mercilessly to maintain their undefeated status.

Apart from Quidditch, their studies had also increased due to the upcoming end-of-term tests. Score had insisted on every Hufflepuff doing their absolute best. Al heard some of the other students refer to Scorpius as He Who Must Not Be Sane after a particularly vicious scolding, so he tried to persuade Score to tone down the menace a trifle, with limited success.

Elladora's malice toward Al had increased exponentially since her argument with Score. Although they had not officially broken up, Score snubbed her and paid almost exclusive attention to Al. He even went so far as to sit at the Gryffindor table for meals and chatted pleasantly with James, Rose, and Lily. Elladora stuck with her Slytherin friends and pretended that she was annoyed with Scorpius, rather than the reverse.

Al often caught Ella watching him with baleful hatred. Each time she passed him in the hall, she would slam her shoulder against him and snarl, "Half-blood ponce." A painful hex would always follow—lesions, warts, itching, boils and rashes. He became adept at casting a Shield Charm with barely a flick of his wand. He was also a regular visitor to Madam Pomfrey when he could not quite cast it in time. Al never divulged the identity of his attacker—he figured Ella had the right to be upset at the loss of Scorpius, and he was simply too happy to have Score back to care about her grudge.

"You and your whole worthless family are going to get it soon, Potter," Ella snarled one day when Al's Charm deflected a particularly nasty curse that left a smoking black stain on a nearby wall. "My aunt Daphne told me. A storm is coming, Potter, so you'd best batten down."

Al stared at her in amazement as she walked away. He repeated her words to Scorpius that night. He shrugged them off. "She's crazy, Al. My dismissal must have unhinged the poor dear. I'm thinking about asking Angelica Parkinson out, just to annoy Elladora."

"You… what?"

Score laughed. "Oh, Al, don't look like I've killed your familiar. You know I'll find another girlfriend eventually, and I won't have you sulking about it."

Al schooled his features into a mask of iron indifference. He shrugged. "Whatever. But Angelica?"

"Do you still like her? I could never actually date her, of course. Her mother and my father are great friends. Angelica is practically my sister." He grinned. "Some people think she is my sister."

Al gaped at him. "You mean your father—?"

"It's possible. No one knows who Angelica's father is, and my parents never actually got along…"

"You should probably cross Angelica off your list, just to be safe," Al suggested.

Score laughed and nodded. "As I said, it was only an idea."

"A bad idea."

Score poked him. Al poked back. Soon they were wrestling on the common room floor like five-year-olds. Several of the younger Hufflepuffs quickly joined in and it turned into a free-for-all of thrown cushions, playful wrestling, and prank hexes.

The final game of the Hogwarts Quidditch season guaranteed to be a brutal matchup. The Ravenclaw team had been tenacious enough to provide an actual threat to the Hufflepuffs.

Thankfully, Al felt well enough to play, even though sudden movements caused a twinge of pain in his ribs and he had bouts of occasional dizziness. Madam Pomfrey informed him that even though he was mostly well, his body still had some residual healing to do on its own. His mind also remembered the injuries and would dredge up "phantom pain" at times. Al didn't really care about the explanations, he just hoped he could stay on his broom.

He hovered just above the hoops and watched Score across the field. The blond flew slowly in a random pattern shadowed by the Ravenclaw Seeker. The sky was clear, but a brisk wind fluttered the banners and made flying more of a challenge than usual.

A Bludger headed for Al, who avoided it with a quick dodge, but he was nearly run down by one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, who yelped a quick, "Sorry, Al!" as she zipped by and gave the wayward Bludger a smack that sent it hurtling toward the Ravenclaw Chaser.

The Chaser panicked and lobbed the Quaffle toward the goal. Al did not bother to deflect it—the wind helped drive it short of the ring by a good meter. Al grinned and raised a hand to Score, who had flown closer, probably to witness the action.

The Quaffle had been snatched by the Hufflepuff team, who hurtled across the sky toward the opposite goal, pursued by the others. Score angled his broom suddenly and rocketed forward, leaning low against the wood and causing the breath to catch in Al's throat at the sight. Damn, but Score could fly. Al doubted Score had seen the Snitch—he was just messing with the Ravenclaw Seeker, who had raced after Score in a frantic burst of speed. Score's triple corkscrew roll confirmed Al's suspicion. He was just playing, trying to keep the other Seeker off-balance and tire him out.

Al forced his eyes away from Score. He floated back to the goal—the wind had pushed him away and the Ravenclaws were coming back. Al wasn't sure if the Hufflepuffs had scored, as it was too windy to properly hear the commentary. It didn't matter, because the Ravenclaws had not scored at all. Al knew Scorpius would rather die than let the other team catch the Snitch.

A hard gust of wind caught Al face-on and he squinted into it. The bristles of his broom bumped into the nearest goal post and he shifted forward, wincing when the movement brought a flare of pain to his ribs. _Phantom pain_, he reminded himself with a snort. It certainly felt real.

He kept his eyes on the approaching team. The Ravenclaws were so predictable. They would try to fire a Bludger at Al and force him aside so they could toss in the Quaffle. Granted, they had several tricky, intricate maneuvers to try to accomplish the move, dreamed up by the sharpest Ravenclaw minds, but Score was no slouch in the intelligence department. He had drilled his team mercilessly on how to counter every possible scenario.

This time, the Ravenclaw Chaser rolled right and gave every indication of dropping out of the sky. Al braced himself for the inevitable Bludger while keeping his eyes fixed on the Quaffle. No doubt the Chaser would pop up and hurl the thing the instant he sensed an opening.

The first Bludger was knocked aside by a Hufflepuff Beater, who laughed giddily and yelled a derisive comment to the Ravenclaw Beater. Al did not bother to watch for the other Bludger, knowing his other teammates would protect him. Besides, Score had drilled it into his head five hundred times—_keep your eyes on the Quaffle_. So fixated was he on the large ball gripped by the Ravenclaw that he almost did not notice when he started to slip.

Al tightened his grip on the broom, but it nearly felt greased—he lurched sideways and noticed that his legs encountered the same lack of resistance. Shit! He was falling off his broom! Al flung his arms around the broom handle, but the movement was too late to stop his sideways motion. His legs fell away from the broom and dangled. Al hung by his clasped hands, but only for an instant. His weight drew the tip of the broom downward. He knew with a sickening feeling that he was going to fall.

He clawed desperately at the wood, but the strange slipperiness did not diminish. Al thought someone screamed his name, and then he was falling.

Al braced himself for yet another round of pain, but instead he felt a strange wrenching sensation. Al slowed, and then felt something like a giant sponge wrap around him. It seemed to compress like a large mattress, and then Al felt himself launch into the air again, but slowly, as if he drifted through marshmallow fluff.

He giggled, realizing that not only was he not in pain, he was actually enjoying the ride. He floated back to earth and his amusement stifled when Score launched himself from his broom and grabbed Al roughly.

"Al!" he yelled. "Are you all right?"

He grinned into Score's worried grey eyes, but before he could speak, they were surrounded by Gryffindors.

"Albus!" Rose cried as she skidded to a halt next to them.

"Nice bounce, little brother," James said in amusement. "What did you hit him with, Rosie?"

"Cushioning Charm. You?"

"Slowing Spell," James admitted.

"I cast _Wingardium Leviosa_," Lily piped up.

Al laughed. "That felt so weird! Fun, though. You should try it!"

Score shook him. "Damn it, Al, you could have died. What happened?"

"I couldn't hold onto my broom. I don't know what happened."

"I do."

They all looked up to see Angelica Parkinson approaching. Al blinked at the blond girl stupidly.

"It was Elladora Greengrass. I know there is no love lost between you and me, Al, but she is going too bloody far. I tried to stop her, but she had already cast."

Score was on his feet. "I'll kill her!" he bellowed and took off. He only made it six steps before James tackled him. "Get off me, you Gryffindor oaf!"

Al sat up and watched with interest as his brother fought the enraged blond. "Stop it, Malfoy!" James yelled. "If you hex her now, you'll be expelled. Then who will watch over Al?"

Score stopped struggling. Angelica shrugged. "It's too late, anyway. Our argument was pretty loud. Ella has already been taken to see McGonagall."

Al stood up, and James hefted Score to his feet with a grip on his hand. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team landed around them, babbling concern and vowing revenge.

"Why aren't you playing?" Score demanded, apparently forgetting that he'd been the first to desert the field. The Hufflepuff Captain glared at Score, but he knew better than to speak up. He was Quidditch Captain in name only.

"Time out," the Hufflepuff Chaser explained. "Our Seeker fell and theirs took a mysterious Bludger to the back of the head."

Score nodded curtly. Al could tell he was pleased. One of the Beaters handed Al his broom. "It started to fall, so I grabbed it."

Al took it, gratefully noting that it no longer felt slippery and impossible to hold.

"Slippery Spell," Angelica explained. "She must really hate you, Al. I don't like you very much, but I don't want you dead." Her pale eyes glinted as she added, "Any more."

Al smiled. He suddenly liked Angelica much more than he had when they were dating. "Thanks," he said.

"Of course, that doesn't mean I'm hanging around with any of you Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors," Angelica said pertly. She flicked the end of her green and silver scarf over her shoulder and sauntered away.

"Huh," Al said. "You know, she's really not so bad." The breath nearly crushed out of him as Score flung an arm around his waist in an unexpected squeeze.

"Get back to the game, loverboy," Score said warningly. "And try to stay on your broom this time, all right?" He dragged his fingers through Al's hair and mussed it roughly.

"As long as you keep your crazy girlfriends from attacking me," Al retorted.

"Deal," Score said into Al's ear and gave him another squeeze. Before Al could blush at the contact, Score let go and headed back to his own broom, shouting orders as he went. The Hufflepuffs scattered.

**New Territory**

Al was not quite certain how he felt about Score's new friendship with James. They often muttered together, blond head close to brunet, while they plotted some horrible prank. Al tried not to be jealous of his own brother, but Score had always been firmly on Al's side of assuming James was a complete prat. The turnabout was not only shocking, but also left Al feeling disgruntled.

Ella sent Score a pleading letter that begged him to meet her on the Astronomy Tower so that they could "work things out". Score read it aloud in a falsetto voice, gesticulating and sobbing dramatically to the whole of Hufflepuff, who had gathered in the common room to witness the performance. The Hufflepuffs were in stitches of hilarity; most of them had felt the sting of Elladora's sharp tongue and were only too happy that Score had broken it off with her. The tale of the pantomime spread like wildfire. The minute Ella got wind of it her relationship with Scorpius was officially over.

Al was worried. "You shouldn't have humiliated her like that," he said.

Score snorted. "Come on, Al; you hated her and she tried to kill you at least once that we know of. Don't go all Hufflepuff on me now."

"I am a Hufflepuff," Al protested.

"You know what I mean. She's lucky to be still be breathing once I determined she was behind the Ravenclaw… thing."

"You _did_?"

Score nodded. "Your brother is tenacious. He kept digging until he found someone who knew something… and I took it from there."

Al nearly asked, but decided against it. Scorpius would never reveal the torture—or blackmail—he had used, just as he had never admitted to casting the curses on Al's three attackers.

"I wish you would stop doing things that will get you into trouble."

"And I wish you would worry more about your own neck than mine."

Al grinned, knowing that would never happen.

Quidditch had ended, but the final exams had not, which meant a ridiculous amount of studying. Al bumped Score's knee with his as he shifted his position. They sat on Score's bed as usual, propped against pillows commandeered from all the other Hufflepuff beds and stacked against the headboard. The other Hufflepuffs could not protest the thefts, because Score had banned them from the room until he was finished studying. He had ensured it with a powerful Locking Charm.

Al would even suffer through Study Time as long as he was alone with Score. He read through a scroll on which he had copied the next day's Potions assignment. He tried to give it his full attention, but he had already read through the procedure six times. He wondered how the hell Score could concentrate on something as boring as Arithmancy. Potions was bad enough. Al's breath caught in his throat when he felt something on his thigh. He shifted his scroll to see Score's pale thumb trace over a long line of ink that adorned the inner thigh of Al's light-colored jeans.

"I swear, Al, you are a mess. Have you never heard of a Cleaning Charm?"

"I dropped my quill. It's just a small mark, and it didn't seem worth the bother to clean it up. I'll do it later. This stupid potion we have to brew tomorrow is a nightmare."

Al could barely get the words out, because Score's thumb had followed the mark back up toward his knee, and then down again.

"Hmmm," Score said absently. "It's not half as tricky as this damned Arithmancy formula."

The thumb retraced the ink line. Up toward the knee, then down, down, down toward Al's crotch. Nerve endings Al did not know he had began to wake up. He felt a languorous heat steal over him.

"The cosign changes the magical signature," Score muttered. "That can't be right."

Al forgot to breathe as Score's hand joined the thumb, sliding down Al's thigh and up again to cup the edge of his knee before slipping down once more. Al noted with horror that his cock was waking up at the caress. Score was engrossed in his homework and had no bloody idea what his touch was doing to Al.

Up. Down. Al needed to escape. He had to get the hell away before Score noticed. He would not soon forget Score's reaction to Al's confrontation with Eddie Carmichael.

_I like girls_._ I'm not like you._

Al's heart nearly stopped when Score's hand slipped too low and actually brushed against Al's rock-hard cock. Their eyes met in shock for a moment. Al's cheeks flooded with mortification, but Score smiled—_smiled_!—in amusement and said, "Damn, Al. You need to wank. You could have told me; I would have let you use your bed."

Astoundingly, the pale fingers fluttered over the hard material of Al's jeans, turning Al's reply into a strangled sound.

"Want me to do it for you?" Score offered. "It's not like you won't do it, anyway, right?"

Al nearly asked if Scorpius had gone mad, or taken some sort of potion, especially after his horrible _I'm not like you_ speech, but he really, really did not want Score to stop. He only nodded, and hoped to hell he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

Score's hand fumbled with Al's button and zipper, mostly freeing Al's cock, although it was still trapped by the cotton boxers.

"Mind you, Al, this doesn't mean anything," Score warned. "I'm just helping you out. Got it?"

Al nodded, unable to speak as Score's hand slipped into his pants and someone other than Al touched his cock. He nearly came at merely the feel of Score's soft hand, which became firm and sure as it moved. Al was mortified that it only took three tugs before he shot his load all over the pale hand and his own boxers.

"God," said Al. "Sorry."

"Sorry for what, silly?" Score's tone was teasing and, fuck, really hot. Al swallowed hard. He grabbed his wand and cast a quick Cleaning Charm that only stripped a few skin cells away with the mess.

"Want to help me out now?" Score asked. Al glanced over to see Score's trousers bulging. The pale fingers slid over it suggestively.

"Yeah," Al managed, and watched in near-terror as Score undid the fastenings and slid the material down his hips to reveal a pale cock nestled among golden curls. It was beautiful, just like the rest of Scorpius.

"Well?" his friend prodded, almost impatiently, breaking Al's stasis. Al quickly reached out and took it into his hand. He had never been quite so glad of his ambidexterity.

He stroked the length of it, marveling at how similar it felt to his own. He twisted slightly and smiled when Score made a sound that caused heat to rise in Al's cheeks. He repeated the motion, just to hear it again.

"Faster," Score said, ever demanding. Al obliged.

Score lasted longer than Al, but not by much. Al thought watching Scorpius come was one of the best things he had ever seen. The silver-blond head was thrown back and his face turned a delightful pink. His lips were parted and his eyes were tightly shut—if Al wasn't already in love, he would have fallen hard at that moment.

"Merlin," Score breathed when his eyes flickered open. "That is much better than doing it yourself."

Al nodded so emphatically he thought his neck might snap. Scorpius cleaned himself up and adjusted his clothing. He gave Al a warning glare. "Mind you, it's just mutual wanking, Al. It does not mean we are bent, and I am certainly not your boyfriend."

"Yes, Score," Al said obediently, but the grin would not leave his face. Score rolled his eyes.

"Get back to work, slacker."

Al picked up the discarded scroll, feeling happier than he had in months.

The "mutual wanking" quickly grew into their favorite routine. They utilized the Hufflepuff dorm whenever Score got the urge to drive the others out, but they also made use of the Quidditch broom shed, the hidden passage to Hogsmeade, the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, and the convenient hedge maze Professor Longbottom had planted behind the greenhouse. Once, between classes, Scorpius had dragged Al into a gloomy alcove near the Transfiguration classroom. He fumbled with Al's robes in a near-frenzy.

"Merlin, Al," Score said as Al used both hands in a practiced motion he knew made the breath stop in his friend's throat. Al chuckled and leaned close to Score's ear, allowing his lips to brush over the soft skin there.

"What got you so hot and bothered?"

"You did, you fucking prat. Sucking on that Sugar Quill in there. You are not supposed to _lick_ them." Score paused and gasped—almost too loud—as Al gave his balls a light squeeze. They both froze, but the sound of footsteps beyond the alcove did not pause.

"I like to lick the center," Al explained quietly. "They last longer and don't get ragged-looking."

"It's obscene," Score hissed and then his hips bucked forward into Al's hands. Heat splattered over Al's wrists and he rested his lips against Score's neck, feeling the pulse hammer there. He felt a curious sense of delight to know that _he_ had caused it, that he had turned Score on just by nibbling at a sweet.

"I keep thinking of other things you could do with that mouth," Score muttered huskily as Al stepped back to clean him up and fix his clothing. Al gaped at him, but it was too dark to see Score's face.

"Other things?" he asked in amazement.

"Never mind—that would be too much. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

But he had, and Al could not stop thinking about it.

Author's Note: I hate to tell you all this, but I'll be out of contact with the Internet for a few days, so I won't be able to update for a bit. Hopefully the smut will tide you over for the holidays! hides


	6. Chapter 6

**Crossing the Line**

Wrapped in Score's arms, Al sobbed brokenly, hardly able to accept the news. Their father had delivered it in person, standing in McGonagall's office with an expression of perfect calm. Al could see the pain in his father's green eyes, burning amidst a rage that was nearly tangible. Al wasn't sure if James or Lily had picked up on the anger—Al always seemed to have a better grasp of his father's emotions than his siblings. They could all feel the hurt, though, and the four of them hugged each other as the tears fell.

Al had sought out Score the minute their father had left. "Eric was Dad's partner for a long time," Al said brokenly. "He always called me Alley Cat and taught me spells he knew Mum wouldn't approve of, and Quidditch moves he had learned in America. 'They aren't so civilized where I come from,' he used to say, and laughed about how they would knock each other off their brooms. Oh Score, I can't believe he's dead."

Score patted his hair gently and murmured comforting words that Al couldn't quite hear.

"What if they kill dad next, Score? James said these enemies were no worse than any other group dad has faced, but if that's true, how did Eric die? It could have been dad!" Al's hands clenched in Score's robes. Suddenly school seemed so much less important. The Ravenclaw attack on Albus had not driven home the lesson of mortality nearly as much as the death of his father's Auror partner.

"Your father killed the Dark Lord, Al. Have some faith."

"He was young then, Scorpius! He's old now! All it takes is one bloody mistake! Do you think he would have let Eric be killed if he could have stopped it? Rose said there is a whole group of them, and now he's got no partner!"

Score pushed Al back and looked into his face seriously. "The Ministry will not allow your father to go anywhere unprotected, Al. It's possible they did not take this group seriously before, but now they'll have to, after they've murdered an Auror. You father will not be fighting them alone. Now stop worrying so much about him, you know he wouldn't like it."

Al bit back a sob and nodded seriously. Score was right about that, at least. His dad would only be distracted if he knew Al was lying awake at night worrying about him. He had to have confidence that his dad could take care of himself.

"Besides," Score continued, "My father will look after him."

Al blinked at him. "Your dad? Really?"

Scorpius nodded. "Yes, they are great friends now. The house-elves told me you dad visits all the time now. Isn't that brilliant? Father told me to assure you that he would not let anything happen to the… what did he call him this time? Oh yes, the 'bloody oblivious Gryffindor imbecile.'"

That earned Score the ghost of a smile. "He called my dad that?"

Score nodded. "They have a strange relationship, don't you think?"

_No stranger than ours_, Al thought, but he said nothing as he let his head drop back to Score's comforting shoulder.

Maybe it was Al's grief that caused it, or maybe he was just tired of pretending. It happened the night before they were to leave Hogwarts, right after the end-of-year feast. Hufflepuff had won the House Cup for the second year in a row, and the mood was celebratory in the Hufflepuff common room, so much so that Al escaped outside to get some fresh air. The initial pain of Eric's death had faded to a dull ache that hurt like hell only when he remembered that he would never see the happy-go-lucky Auror again. Still, it seemed wrong to be excited over something as trivial as winning a silly cup when real life lurked just beyond the school walls, waiting to snatch up friends and family without a moment's notice.

Al knew he was being maudlin, but he could not help himself. The end of another school year always depressed him. It meant he would no longer see Scorpius on a daily basis. Even though Al would be allowed to visit several times over the summer, it just was not the same as being able to open his eyes and see Score lying across the room, mere steps away from a gentle touch.

Al's usual solitary haunts were occupied by amorous couples stealing their last few moments before the Hogwarts Express would drag them apart. He even caught Lily snogging Adam Corner near the lake. She threatened to turn him into a hairless warthog if he told mum and Al trotted away, laughing. It was always nice to have blackmail material against his siblings.

His amusement faded as he returned to the castle. He bypassed the happy groups that rushed about, handing out last minute gifts and saying goodbye to friends. The seventh-year students were the most somber. Al waved to the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, who lifted a hand in return as he walked with his girlfriend toward the Astronomy Tower. Al was glad he did not know many seventh-years—it would only depress him more to know he would likely not see them again.

Al wandered until he found a small window seat in a rarely-used stairwell. The window was stained glass, and he could only see the distorted grounds of Hogwarts through the palest yellow pane. Hufflepuff yellow, he thought and flipped the fringe of his scarf against his knee in a rhythmic pattern. He was still there twenty minutes later when Score found him.

"How did you find me?" he asked as the blond approached. The yellow Scorpius wore tonight was so pale it was nearly white, matching Score's hair almost perfectly. Al was attired in black, as usual. It fit his somber mood at the moment.

Score waved a piece of parchment before he tucked it into his robes. "Your brother's map. Interesting heirlooms your father passed down to you. Magic map, invisible cloak… what did Lily get?"

Al grinned wryly. "I think he ran out of artifacts for her, so she just gets a new broom every year—the latest model. James and I would complain, but I think the cloak is worth it, and I know James loves the Marauder's Map. Sneaking around is his life." Albus had built up a tidy sum in Galleons charging James for each use of the cloak—Merlin only knew what his brother did when he crept around Hogwarts at night. Al figured he was better off not knowing.

"I would ask what you are doing up here all alone, but I know you like to brood on our last night at Hogwarts," Score said as he took the end of the scarf out of Al's hand and toyed with the fringe. "Why don't you come downstairs and pretend to be your usual sunny self? We miss you."

Al reached out and touched Score's hip, feeling the soft cloth against his fingertips. Score always had the best clothing—Al loved to touch it. Well, it was possible he only liked it so much because Score's skin was beneath it, but nonetheless… He caressed gently.

"I'm not in much of a partying mood," Al admitted.

Score dropped the scarf and raised a hand to touch Al's cheek. "Albus, you'll see me in a bloody week. Do stop moping."

Al launched himself out of the seat and wrapped his arms around Scorpius as if he could absorb the other boy's essence to sustain him through their separation. Al knew he was acting like an idiot, but he could not seem to help himself. Score sighed heavily. "I'm sorry," Al said.

He felt Score chuckle against his hair. The blond squeezed him slightly. "It's all right. You are overly emotional, but I like you anyway."

Al's response nearly crushed his friend, who chuckled again. "Shall we have one more 'session' before we leave Hogwarts?" Scorpius asked huskily and Al groaned, instantly hard. He maneuvered Score until the blond's back pressed against the hard stone at the edge of the embrasure. Score's fingers tugged at Al's trousers. Half the excitement of performing their "mutual wanking" in different areas of the castle was the potential for discovery. The nearby stairs were seldom used, but it was still possible.

Al stroked Score's heated flesh and felt his friend's hand bring him close to release. Just before Al came, he pulled back and then dipped his head to press his lips against Score's. The blond was soft and pliant; his mouth was already parted to elicit panting gasps, giving Al easy access to slide his tongue inside. Kissing Angelica Parkinson had been nothing compared to this. Al's orgasm intensified a hundredfold at the feel and taste of Score. He thought he might die from the sheer joy of it.

And then Scorpius shoved him away with a curse.

"Damn it, Al! What the hell are you doing? I told you I'm not your boyfriend." The blond sounded angry and betrayed.

Al cast a Cleaning Charm and annoyance took the place of his euphoric glee. His eyes narrowed at his friend. "Look, Score, I'm tired of pretending. I don't care what sort of labels you attach to me. You can call me bent, queer, freak, or whatever you like, but it won't change how I feel about you. I've never lied to myself about that and I won't lie to you any more, either. I love you, Scorpius." The blond's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Al hurried on before he lost his nerve. "Don't think it's because of what we've been doing recently, either. I've loved you for years, and not just in a friendly/brotherly sort of way. If you can't accept that, then so be it, because even _that_ won't change my feelings. You keep saying that what we do doesn't mean anything, but maybe you should think about it and make certain you're not lying to yourself."

With that, Al turned and walked steadily down the stairs, amazed at his ability to hold his head high even against the possibility that he had lost Scorpius forever. He thought he suddenly understood how his father found the courage to confront the Dark Lord. Some things simply had to be faced, or how could you live with yourself?

Al stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express and watched the rain scoot down the glass in fitful trails. His courage from the night before had deserted him in the cold light of morning and the colder awareness of Score's absence. He had managed not to search for the blond, instead finishing his packing and making sure his trunk was outside with the others.

His eyes had searched ceaselessly for Scorpius, who never appeared. Al had reluctantly boarded a Thestral-drawn carriage with some of his other Hufflepuff friends, and made a lame excuse for Score's obvious nonattendance.

He sat in his usual place on the train, across from his Quidditch teammates. The Abbott twins tried to make conversation until his monosyllabic responses caused them to lose interest. Al wallowed in silent depression until the door opened and a familiar blond stalked inside and took his usual place next to Al. He stared at Score in surprise.

"I don't want to discuss it," Scorpius snapped. "The last time I was angry with you, something dreadful happened because I was not there to protect you. I'm just making certain that doesn't happen again. Mind you, I'm still very irate, so I'll thank you to shut the hell up and let me sleep."

Al nodded silently. A tired Scorpius was a vicious Scorpius, so it was best to do as he said. He felt immense relief when Score sighed and then dropped his head to Al's shoulder in his usual fashion. Al moved his arm to draw Score closer and rest his chin against the top of the blond hair.

Score slept until the train reached Kings Cross Station, eventually ending up with his head in Al's lap and his legs sprawled over the legs of the Abbott twins. The girls chatted with Al and giggled with others in the compartment while Al's fingers skated lightly through the blond hair that lay against his thigh.

The jolt as the train came to a halt woke Score, who scowled blearily as everyone rushed to grab trunks and luggage from the overheads. Al stayed where he was until the bedlam abated and they were alone in the compartment. Score took his things and started out without a backward glance, but a word from Al halted him.

"Score." The blond paused in the doorway to look back at Al, who grinned. "I know you're still mad at me… but it was worth it."

"You're impossible, Albus," Score said and went out.

Al took up his things and followed, feeling surprisingly happy.

When Al departed the train, he caught sight of his father for only a moment, standing close to Score's dad. A billow of mist obscured them all and Al paused to wait for it to thin. Last year he had rushed through the steam and tripped over a dropped broom, falling on his face and nearly knocking out his front teeth. He tried to be more careful now.

Someone jostled him and he heard two words: "_Petrificus Totalis_."

Al would have cried out, except that he could no longer move. Before he could topple over, a strong hand gripped his arm and then he felt the lurching sensation of Disapparation. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was Score's blond head turning back—


	7. Chapter 7

Bait 

Al opened his eyes blearily and tried to focus. He wondered when they had hit him with a Stunner—he didn't remember that at all. He remembered being snatched from King's Cross Station, though. With that memory, he looked up quickly and took in his surroundings. He was in a large room with walls of dark wood… and he was tied to a chair. Al pulled at his bonds and saw that the fibers were laced with something that sparkled faintly. Magically-enhanced, no doubt.

He gave up on escape for the moment and took in the room. A set of double doors—closed—sat on his right. In front of him was a huge stone fireplace with a wooden mantle, topped by a giant painting of a man in archaic clothing. It was too far away for Al to make out details. To Al's left were two large bay windows on either side of a massive wooden desk. A few small tables dotted the room, but no large pieces other than the desk. Al wondered if some furnishings had been removed to make room for the heavy chair that was Al's current prison.

Albus rocked experimentally, thinking he might tip the chair over and scoot his way to the door, but the damned thing was either too heavy, or more likely, attached to the floor with a Sticking Charm. He went back to examining his bonds, hoping he could loosen them enough to slide his wrists free.

_Where the hell am I_? he wondered. _Who would want to capture me_?

The door opened and two people walked in, both swathed in hooded black robes. One was large and the other small. Al watched them warily.

The smaller one approached and threw back the hood with pale hands.

"Hi, Albus," Elladora Greengrass purred. "How nice it is to see you… like this."

Al kept his face expressionless, even though he was more confused than ever. He knew Ella hated him, but what reason could she have for kidnapping him? Did she not know who his father was?

Her companion also removed his hood and Al raised a brow in what he hoped was a fine imitation of Scorpius. Al was certain he had never seen the man before. The bloke had darkish skin and thick black hair. He was handsome in a way that reminded Al of Score's father, although he could not put his finger on it right away. It eventually came to him. The man was polished, like a pretty vase on the outside, but inside filled with things that were hidden, and quite possibly unpleasant.

"Albus Potter," the man said as he reached out a cool hand to lay it against Al's cheek. Al thought about yanking his face away, but settled for bestowing a glare on the man instead. "You really are the spitting image of The Boy Who Lived, even down to those angry green eyes. He's rather pretty, too, wouldn't you say, Elladora?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't consider half-bloods to be 'pretty' at all, actually. Although Scorpius Malfoy doesn't seem to make the same distinction."

"What do you want with me?" Al snapped, unwilling to allow the conversation to turn to Scorpius. He did not want to give the man any ideas about kidnapping Score. Al would suffer whatever punishment they planned to dole out, as long as Score remained safe. He realized with a moment of panic that he didn't know if Scorpius was safe. What if they had taken him also? He forced the worry to a small corner of his mind.

"I don't want anything with you, young Potter," the man said. "I'm after much bigger fish. However, you shall make very nice bait. Elladora was quite helpful in supplying us with the information necessary to snag you. She did not even want payment, other than seeing you suffer. She doesn't seem to like you, Potter. Ella, fetch the parchment and a quill."

Elladora walked to the large desk and returned with the requested items. The man pulled out a wand and Al looked at it curiously. He seemed to remember Eric's voice in his head as his father's Auror partner played "what if" games with them. _If you are ever taken, Alley Cat, remember to pay attention to everything, no matter how insignificant it seems. Observe and recall clothing, wands, hair, scars, eyes… every possible detail. You never know what might be important, and what clue can lead us to the culprits…_

Al looked carefully at the man and the wand. His skin tone was very distinctive. It looked almost honey-colored… or the same tint as one of Uncle George's Ton Tongue Toffees. The wand was paler, not as light as Al's ash wand, but not so dark as Score's chestnut, either. Oak maybe? Cedar? Al tried to memorize the shape of it. The man loosened the ropes on Al's right hand.

"Who are you?" Al asked, assuming the man would not tell him, but deciding it didn't hurt to ask.

"My name is Blaise Zabini," he replied. "Now, take this quill and write your father a nice note."

Al took the quill and wondered how to use it as a weapon. If only Eric had taught him some useful Auror tricks! Zabini thrust the parchment at him and stiffened it with a spell so that Al could write on it as he held it awkwardly on his thigh.

"What do you want me to write?" he asked. He pretended to concentrate on the paper, but his eyes gazed through the fringe of his hair at the wand in the man's hand. He wondered if he could snatch it. He was no Seeker, like Score, but maybe…

"Tell your father I'm requesting fifty thousand Galleons ransom for you, delivered by midnight tonight."

_Fifty thousand_? The sum nearly derailed Al's thought processes, but he recovered and quickly began to scratch the words. The quill was self-inking, and the letters were black and precise against the parchment. Al dropped the writing instrument and grabbed for Zabini's wand. Before he could grasp the wood, a dark hand caught his wrist and squeezed until Al nearly cried out.

"Tricky little prat. Just like your father, aren't you? Luckily, I know all about you Potters. Now stop the foolishness and get writing." He compressed Al's wrist bones once more and then released him. Al would have rubbed his sore arm if his other hand had been free. He glared at Zabini, but picked up the quill and continued writing.

"If you know who my father is, you must know he'll kill you for this."

Zabini snatched the parchment before Al could completely finish. The black ink left a violent streak on the paper. The man took Al's quill and the ropes magically retied themselves around Al's aching wrist.

"Your father doesn't scare me, Albus. I've know him for a long time, and I know things about him that he will sorely regret." Zabini added a notation to the paper, rolled the parchment tightly, and held it out to Ella. "Please take this to the owlery, Elladora, and send it to Harry Potter."

Ella obediently took the scroll and left the room. Al absently hoped she tripped on some stairs and broke her neck. Or possibly the owls would go mad and peck her to death. His vengeful musings were halted by Zabini pulling a small vial from his robes. Al looked at it warily, quite aware that a vial in the hands of a strange enemy was never a good sign.

"Do you want to know what this is, Albus?" Zabini asked.

"Not really, and I don't want to take it, either."

Zabini tsked. "I'm sorry, sweet boy, but I'm afraid you must. It's necessary, you see, for you father to know that I'm deadly serious."

The word _deadly_ seemed to echo in the room and Al swallowed hard. He tore anxiously at his bonds.

"All you want is money, right? I'm sure he'll pay it," Al said breathlessly, even though he had no idea if his father had access to that much money. A ray of hope hit him at the knowledge that Score's father most assuredly had access to that much, and since they were friends now… well surely Mr. Malfoy would loan his father the money, if necessary. Al's voice was much stronger when he added, "He'll definitely pay it, so there is no need to make me drink anything. I'll just sit here and wait until the ransom is delivered."

Zabini laughed and Al was surprised at the nice sound of it. A dark hand reached out and touched Al's head before sliding down to cup the back of Al's neck. "Ah, to be so young and idealistic again. Actually, Albus, I'm sorry to inform you that I don't need or even want the ransom. The note was merely intended to bring your father here. I have other plans for him. But first, it's time for you to take a little drink."

Zabini uncorked the vial and Al stared at it in horror. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. It might make you a bit drowsy but other than that, you won't feel much."

The words had not answered Al's question. "What is it?" he repeated loudly. Zabini spoke a spell instead of answering and Al could not move as the potion was poured slowly into his mouth. It was not particularly foul, but it reminded him of wood shavings and licorice. Another spell forced him to swallow, and then Zabini released him. Al thought about spitting, but knew it was far too late. The contents of the vial sat in his stomach like a lead weight. "What is it?" he whispered.

"A slow-acting poison, I'm afraid. But if your daddy hurries, he'll be here in time to save you."

Al stared at him, horrified. Ella returned and scowled as Zabini capped the empty vial and tossed it on the desk. She pouted. "You said I could give him the potion."

Zabini chuckled. "You're a bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you? Just like your Aunt Daphne. She used to _Crucio_ birds for the fun of it."

"I wanted to help," Ella said.

"You have helped, dearest. We would not have been able to capture young Albus without your information. Now, go have a seat while we wait for the intrepid hero to turn up."

Ella smirked at Al and then pulled his wand out of her robes. She dangled it by her fingers in front of him. "Poor little Albus," she crooned. "No one to save you this time. I'll bet your bloody father will be too late. I hope so."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Al asked. He flexed his fingers and wondered if he could Summon his wand. He had never been able to perform wandless magic before, except for unconsciously exploding saltshakers and destroying one of James's favorite toys, but this was a desperate situation.

Ella sneered. "I hate all your kind, Albus. Filthy spawn of Mudbloods. You should all crawl back to the Muggle world where you belong."

Al stretched the fingers of his hands as far as they would reach toward Ella. He opened his mouth to speak _Accio_, but Zabini said, "Ella, step away from there. I need to cast the spell."

Ella obediently sauntered to the nearest window seat and Al nearly howled in frustration at losing his chance. He could never Summon his wand at such a distance. His vision swam for a moment and he felt curiously lightheaded. Damn, the potion must be taking effect. He blinked to restore his sight, and saw Zabini standing in front of him with wand upraised. His kidnaper began to chant and Albus felt magic begin to coalesce around him. Zabini's face was fixed in lines of concentration. Al noticed beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, until a pinkish webwork began to obscure his sight.

Al watched in amazement as a faintly glowing half-sphere encased him, leaving him in a dome of pale light that he could barely see through. He wondered what sort of prison it was. It seemed redundant, as Al could not free himself from the ropes, even though his wrists ached from ceaseless trying.

Zabini walked back to the desk and conjured a glass of water. He downed it before collapsing in the chair that stood before the desk. "You can thank your Uncle George for that spell, Albus. Fascinating store he runs, you know. He supplies all sorts of nasty, tricky items to the Ministry. Available to the public if you know where to look. I modified that particular one, of course." He chuckled. "Quite a lot, actually, but the original design was all Weasley. Rather fitting, I would say."

Despite himself, Al looked at the webwork curiously. He could not recall any of Uncle George's items being remotely similar, but if it was something he had developed for the Ministry that was not surprising.

"What does it do?" he asked and absently noted that his words were slightly slurred.

"I'll explain that when your father gets here, of course. Just sit tight." He chuckled at his little joke and Al decided he did not like the man at all.

The person that burst angrily into the room a moment later was not Al's father, however. It was his mother.

"Mum!" he cried and almost burst into tears. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. She ran toward him with a sob, but Zabini's voice halted her in her tracks.

"I wouldn't cross that barrier if I were you, Gins."

She stopped mere steps from Al's dome and glared at the man. "What is the meaning of this, Blaise? What the fuck are you about, taking my son?"

"It's your own fault, dearest. With your hysterical talk about wanting to 'make it up to Harry' and 'get back together' and 'put your family first'. All that _tripe_ put you firmly back into the enemy camp."

"Enemy camp?" she cried. "_You're_ the one that has been trying to kill Harry? All this time? Did you kill Eric?"

"You mean your husband's dear, dead partner? I arranged that little explosion, yes. The American wasn't the target, but as usual the Chosen One's superior Gryffindor luck came through in the end and saved his bloody arse."

Al's mum looked horrified. "You told me you didn't know who wanted to kill Harry. You've lied to me from the beginning. What else did you lie about, Blaise?"

Zabini snorted. "You want me to tell you I wasn't lying when I said I loved you? Sorry, Gins, but although you were a bloody fine fuck, the only reason I took up with you was to get information on Harry Potter."

Al's mum blanched and looked at Al quickly, but he shut his eyes to avoid her gaze. Damn. He was old enough to know what Zabini meant. His mother had cheated on his father… with that horrible man. And he had pretended to love her? Why would she need that, when Al's father already loved her? Was that why his parents had constantly fought? Al felt sick from more than the potion.

Zabini chuckled. "I had no idea it would be so easy to lure you into bed. You were so resentful and indignant about never being the center of Potter's attention. He always had someone to save, did he not? Or at the very least, someone else he would rather spend time with. It's quite sad that you could never compete with your own brother and his wife for your husband's affection."

"Shut up, Blaise," she said.

"I have to admit, though, you were damned distracting for awhile. I nearly forgot my purpose a few times. I think I was close to honestly falling in love with you, until you decided to run back to him like the stupid little Gryffindor you are. Tell me, Gins, did he wait for you, or did he seek solace in the arms of another? Were Harry and the American more than work partners? I often wondered about your esteemed husband, considering the way he fixated on Draco in school… Maybe I should have tried to seduce him instead of you, eh?"

Al's mum leaped at him with a snarl. Al cried out as Zabini yelled, "Crucio!" and his mum fell to the ground with a high shriek of pain.

"Stop it!" Al yelled, thrashing at his bonds. "Leave her alone!"

Zabini grinned at him unpleasantly and tortured Al's mother until he was hoarse from screaming. His wrists bled from the ropes and his shirt was wet with tears. His mum had managed to pull out her wand, but Zabini's _Expelliarmus_ had sent it across the room for Ella to snatch. She had tucked it away with Al's.

Al's mum lay unmoving on the floor, moaning slightly. "I hate you!" Al screamed at the evil man. He had disliked Ella intensely and he despised the Ravenclaw bullies who had attacked him, but Al had never felt genuine hatred before. Zabini did not seem to mind. He pulled Al's mum partially upright by her hair and his wand pressed against her face.

"Like father, like son, eh Potter?"

"You guessed it, Zabini," a harsh voice said from the doorway and Al's tear-streaked face rose with new hope. His father entered the room, accompanied by Mr. Malfoy. "Now put the fucking wand down and get away from _my wife_!"


	8. Chapter 8

Unseen 

The sight of his father filled Al with relief. Everything would be all right now.

"You're slightly early, Potter, but I've been expecting you," Zabini said and then glared at Mr. Malfoy. "I was not expecting _you_, Draco, you bloody traitor." Al blinked at them in surprise. Apparently they all knew each other.

Mr. Malfoy laughed. "You are the last person from whom I want to hear a lecture on loyalty, Blaise. What the hell are you doing kidnapping children?"

"Ridding the world of blood-tainted scum." Zabini dug the wand harder into Al's mum's face and she cried out. Al nearly yelled again and he looked quickly at his father, who had lifted his wand angrily. "Ah, ah, Potter, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Al's father lowered his wand slightly. "So you're the new Voldemort?"

"Not exactly. My motives are nothing like his, since he was obviously insane. My reasons are far more practical. I have had quite enough of the anti-pureblood sentiment that has overtaken the Ministry. It's their own fault, really, for banning purebloods from decent jobs and treating us like second-class citizens."

"They haven't been banned, Zabini," Al's father said. Al wished they would stop talking and start casting hexes.

"Shut the hell up, Potter. You and your Mudblood friends have been sitting pretty since the war. Even your new friend Draco spends most of his time locked away in his mansion rather than risk being spit upon. Pureblood and former Death Eater both. Some of us are doubly damned. However, you are not here to discuss my political motivations. You are here to rescue your precious child, are you not? And quite possibly your wife, although I somewhat fear you would rather discard her. Your arrival with Draco has opened up a world of interesting possibilities. You always were obsessed with Potter, Draco. Has he finally succumbed to your wiles?"

Al's father cast a hex suddenly and a blue light hit Zabini. Al nearly cheered. A purple-blue glow crackled around Zabini. Al hoped it would fry the man, but then it was gone. Elladora gasped and sat forward with her wand held steady. Al glared at her. If she even thought about hexing his father, Al would chew through his bloody ropes and strangle her to death. She relaxed when Zabini chuckled.

"Oh good show, Potter. That would have knocked me for a loop, would it not? Luckily, I shop at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They have the most fascinating items there, including these fabulous Shield Rings. Of course, I've modified this one a bit… it is quite a lot stronger than those developed by your brother-in-law. Now put your wands down and back away or I'll split this bitch in two."

Al gasped and nearly yelled in horror as his father threw down his wand.

"You too, Draco," Zabini snapped.

"I'm thinking," Mr. Malfoy said. Al looked at him in surprise, wondering why he waited. Did he want Zabini to torture his mum? "Oh all right," Mr. Malfoy said after a moment. He threw his wand next to Al's dad's.

Al slumped in his chair, feeling renewed despair. He half-expected Zabini to cast a Killing Curse at his father and Mr. Malfoy. Al's father looked at Zabini steadily, but he did not seem disturbed. Al tried to screw up his courage, hoping his dad had a plan.

Zabini finally let go of Al's mum. She collapsed on the floor again, catching herself with her elbows before her head cracked against the stone. Al noticed tears streaming down her face. Zabini Summoned the discarded wands and put them inside his robes.

"Very good. This will go so much more smoothly if you cooperate. Now then, here is the situation. Oh wait, we don't want to be interrupted by any of your Auror friends, do we, Potter?"

Zabini gestured with his wand at the doors, which slammed shut.

"Your son has been given a slow-acting poison, Potter," Zabini commented. Al's father gasped and took two steps toward him, but Zabini said, "The pretty ring around Albus will, of course, kill you if you cross it. Then again, that's the whole idea, isn't it?"

Al gasped. His vision swam suddenly and a shudder passed through him. He felt like his blood had become ice.

Zabini held up something small. Al could not quite make it out through the blur and the pink web. "This is the antidote, Potter. After crossing the field, you _should_ have enough time to administer it to the boy before you die. You seem quite strong and fit, I'm certain you can do it. You've always been lucky, after all; you are the Boy Who Lived."

A strange ringing began in Al's ears. He could see Mr. Malfoy arguing with Zabini, but he could not make out their words. The ringing subsided slightly and Al heard his father say, "Give me the antidote. I'll do it."

"I knew I could count on you," Zabini said and moved his hand as if to throw the vial toward Al's dad. Before they could react, Al's mum leaped up and snatched the vial from Zabini's hand. She bolted straight at Al, passing through the pink web of lines. Her face twisted with pain and determination. She shrieked loudly as the dome broke around her and disappeared. She did not quite make it to Al before she collapsed on the floor. The vial slipped from her fingers and rolled under Al's chair.

"_Mum_!" Al screamed at the same time his father shouted. Al heard more shouts from the adults, but his attention was focused on his mum's still form. "_Mum_! Please get up!"

She groaned and raised her head slowly to look at Al. "Oh Albus," she said, so quietly that Al nearly could not hear her. "I'm so sorry. This is my fault. All my fault."

Al shook his head quickly and then had to drop his head when black spots swam before his eyes. He was suddenly terrified that he would pass out and fought it gamely. He couldn't let that happen, not when his mum needed him.

"_Crucio_! _Crucio_!" Al heard. It sounded like Zabini's voice, audible over the hiss of flying hexes. Al blocked it out and concentrated on maintaining consciousness. He breathed in and out slowly until the spots faded and color returned to his vision. He felt a hand touch his ankle and blinked until his mum came back into focus. Her hands were outstretched. One touched Al's leg and the other reached beneath his chair, obviously questing for the lost vial. Al noted with horror that a trickle of blood marred the edge of her mouth and her face was set with lines of effort.

"Mum?" Al asked when her hand slackened and her head dropped slowly to the stone floor.

"I love you, Albus," she murmured and lay still.

"Mum!" Al cried. She seemed to ripple slightly and Al assumed his vision was going once more, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell through the tears. His head dropped to his chest and he thought he might burst in two from the pain. A sob tore from his throat. Arms suddenly surrounded him and held him tightly. Al thought he might be going mad. Warm lips brushed against his temple.

"Al, stay with me."

"_Score_?"

"Drink this," Score said, and Albus felt something slightly cool against his lower lip.

"Why can't I see you?" Al asked dimly.

"I'm wearing your invisibility cloak, silly. Now drink this, and then I'll work on your bonds."

"Mum?" Al asked.

"Damn it, Al, if you don't drink this fucking antidote and stop asking questions, I'm going to smack you upside the head."

Al drank. The potion was icy and reminded Al of glass shavings. It roiled slightly in his stomach. Scorpius cast Finite Incantatum on the ropes and the twist of magic disappeared. A quick Severing Charm split them and Al gladly lowered his arms. He fell out of his chair and sprawled on his mum's body.

"Mum," he cried softly and shook her. "Please, mum, please wake up."

Tears burned a path down his cheeks and he thought he might never breathe again when Score held him gently and whispered, "She's gone, Al."

"No! No, don't say that, Score. She's just resting. She'll be fine."

Score's grip tightened and Al felt warm breath against his hair. He sagged suddenly against his friend. A crackle shot over their heads and Score sucked in a breath. The cloak fluttered quickly over Al's head, nearly covering them both.

"Come on, I've got to get you out of here," Score said. Something pressed into Al's hand. "Can you hold your wand?"

"Where did you get my wand?"

"Elladora had it. I took care of her."

"What did you do to her?

"Just knocked her out, but I broke her wand." Score chuckled. "She is going to be furious."

Al's gaze slid across the room to where Ella slumped in the window seat. He could not suppress a grin of satisfaction. His eyes quickly moved across the room, seeking out his father, but Score dragged him up and tugged him toward the door.

"Oh hell, it's locked. How are we going to get out?"

Loud hammering began on the door from the other side and Scorpius cast spell after spell at the portal, trying to undo the locking spells Zabini had cast. Al peered behind them, trying to spot his father, but the three men were locked in a silent battle on the floor near the desk. Al could only hope they were all right. The effort of standing was nearly too much for Al; he leaned his head against Score's shoulder and fought to stay on his feet. If the damned antidote worked at all, it was taking its sweet time. Al blanched suddenly and wondered if Zabini had lied. Maybe Al was doomed to die, after all.

He held Score more tightly, just in case.

"It's all right," Score murmured and squeezed Al's ribs with his free hand.

An extraordinarily bright white light coruscated around the door suddenly, causing multicolored spots to swim before Al's eyes.

"Look out!" Score shouted and propelled Al to the side. They made it a few steps before Al tripped, sending them both sprawling. The door exploded inward and a shower of wood splinters rained over the boys. When Al looked up, Teddy and a number of other Aurors stood in the doorway.

"We should help," Al said tiredly, but he shut his eyes for a moment.

"The Aurors can help," Score snapped. "I'm getting you out of here. Come on."

Al's legs were partially exposed, but the newcomers were intent on the battle. They rushed past Al and Score. The blond lifted Al to his feet and hauled him bodily through the smashed door. He dragged Al down the hall a short distance to the first door they spotted, which he shoved open.

It was a bedchamber. Al soon found himself lying on the bed and gazing into the worried grey eyes of his friend. The cloak was tossed aside.

"Are you feeling any better?" Score asked.

"A little," Al lied. Although his eyesight _did_ seem clearer and he no longer saw images in double or triple. The exhaustion had worsened, though. Al had nearly been a dead weight when Score had dragged him across the room. Score locked the door with a quick spell.

"Shouldn't we let someone know we're safe?" Al asked.

"As soon as the fighting stops, they'll come looking for us. Do you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

"No. Can you just… lie down with me for a moment? I'm so tired."

Score climbed over him and pressed his body against Al's. One hand rested on Al's chest. Score used a thumb to brush the hair back from Al's eyes. His expression was very serious.

"Albus," Score said.

Al smiled gently. "Hmmm?" he asked sleepily.

Al's drowsiness fled when Score's lips pressed against his, gently at first and then more insistently. Al hardly dared to breathe and he dimly wondered if he had fallen asleep. Perhaps this was just a beautiful dream.

Al parted his lips and reached up to touch Score, who felt warm and solid. Score's tongue accepted the invitation and slipped inside to tangle pleasantly with Al's. He moaned softly, knowing it had to be a dream.

Score pulled back finally and Al admired his handsome face. Score's lips were wet and his eyes were soft and dark.

"I'm sorry, Al," Score said quietly and Al smiled brightly, knowing for certain it was a dream, because Score never apologized. Except that once, after Al was attacked… "I should not have been so damned stubborn all this time. You were right, you know, when we were eight years old. You told me I was afraid of what people might think. You were right. I was afraid of what my father would think, and our friends at school, and people I don't even know."

Score's hand left Al's chest and reached up to caress his face.

"I'm sorry I had to nearly lose you for good to admit how I feel about you, even to myself. Seeing you suffering in that cage and not being able to reach you… I don't ever want to feel that helpless again."

Al swallowed hard as his thoughts went back to the room where his mum had died to save him. Hot tears prickled his eyes and Score's brow furrowed. His hand tightened on Al's cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Score whispered. "She loved you very much… and so do I."

The illusion of a dream crashed around Al and he threw his arms around Scorpius to draw him closer. A cry issued from his throat that was half sob and half joy. He hadn't known it was possible to feel both at once.

Score held him tightly. Al's tears fell in earnest as he realized he would never see his mother smile at him again. She would never kiss his forehead and heal his skinned knees, or show him how to do a fancy Quidditch maneuver.

Score's breath was warm against Al's hair as the blond crooned soft words of comfort. When Al finally regained control, Score drew back and wiped away Al's tears with his fingers.

"Better?" Score asked. Al sniffed and nodded. Scorpius smiled gently and leaned in for another kiss. After his crying jag, Al could hardly breathe. Score's kiss made him almost desperate for air, but he would rather suffocate than ask Score to stop.

Score let Al gasp for breath after a moment, and Al carded his fingers through Score's hair. He had touched it before, but now it seemed extra soft and special.

"Thanks," Al said seriously, feeling suddenly shy. "Thanks for rescuing me."

A smile curved Score's perfect lips. "Any time. You know I'll always come for you."

Those particular words brought a rush of heat to Al's cheeks and he dragged Score back into an enthusiastic kiss. Things were just starting to get interesting when the door flew open and Score's father stalked into the room.

Mr. Malfoy stopped as if struck. Score pulled away, looking mortified. "F… Father," he stammered and eased off the bed.

Score's father blinked at them. Al's initial surprise had faded and he wanted nothing more than to pull Score back onto the bed and guard him from Mr. Malfoy, or anyone else that would threaten him. Score looked ready to hyperventilate.

"I got Albus out safely," he whispered in a tone thick with dread.

Mr. Malfoy smiled gently in a way that reminded Al of his own father. "So I see," he said. Scorpius inhaled sharply and Al looked at him in surprise. Did his father really think their kissing was all right? Al had expected an angry tirade at the very least. He turned back to Score's father and raised his chin defiantly.

"Hi, Mr. Malfoy," Albus said. "Where's my dad?"

Mr. Malfoy sobered. "I'll take you to St. Mungo's," he said as he strode forward. "Come, Scorpius."

Al wanted to ask why they needed to go to the hospital, since he felt nearly, almost perfectly fine, but Score snatched the invisibility cloak and stood next to his father as he approached the bed. Mr. Malfoy leaned down and slid an arm beneath Al's shoulders. He put his other arm around Scorpius.

They Apparated to St. Mungo's, where several mediwitches pounced on him and dragged Al away, ignoring his protests that he was fine and wanted to stay with Score. He wished his father would show up and set things right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Al's Room**

Al looked up hopefully when the door opened, but it shut again with no one entering. He scowled. He was quite tired of being poked, prodded, questioned, and spelled. All he wanted was to go home. He felt a hand on his knee and nearly jumped out of his skin, until the invisible hand slid up his thigh and brushed lightly over his crotch.

Al breathed a sigh of relief. "Score, you scared me half to death."

"How do you know I'm not a horny ghost?" a deep voice asked.

Al chuckled. "If you are, then be gone. But if you are Scorpius Malfoy, then come here. And keep doing that touching thing."

The air seemed to ripple slightly and Score's handsome face was revealed, looking strange floating in midair. The bed depressed as Score sat and Al quickly reached out to touch him. His hand encountered what felt like a hip and his fingers explored until Score chuckled.

"Stop it, Al, that tickles."

His hand was firmly removed from Score's unseen ribs and placed on his thigh instead.

"Why don't you take that cloak off and let me see what I'm touching?" Al asked. He heard an intake of breath and grinned wickedly. He hadn't meant to sound suggestive, but—Score's lips were on his suddenly, bruising and intense.

"Damn you, Al, I knew I should never have kissed you. Now I can't seem to stop." Score's voice was rough when he pulled back for air.

The door opened and Score disappeared completely beneath the cloak. The bed shifted and Al's hand dropped away. Al hoped Score would only move across the room not leave.

Teddy Lupin entered and dragged a chair close to Al's bed. His expression was serious and Al felt a blanket of dread drop over him. Teddy took Al's hand, still warm from the heat of Score's thigh.

"My… my father?" Al stammered. He felt something nudge his other hand and he raised it just enough for Score to slip his cloak-covered hand beneath and grip tightly. Al felt steadier, knowing his friend was with him. He squeezed Score's hand in thanks.

"Your father is down the hall," Teddy said. "He was hit with a spell and they are not sure how to reverse the effects, or even what spell was used."

Al realized he was crushing Score's hand and loosened his grip.

"Draco and Hermione are—where is Scorpius?" The Auror's tone was sharp and he shot to his feet looking panicked.

The air shimmered and Score showed himself next to the bed. Teddy sagged into his chair with an explosive exhalation.

"Bloody hell, you frightened me out of six years of my life. I thought we'd lost another one."

"Sorry," Score said, but he smirked and sat on the bed, still holding Al's hand. "They would not let me in unless I was 'immediate family' or some such shite. I told them we were cousins, which is true if you go back enough generations…"

"You said something about Mr. Malfoy and Aunt Hermione," Al prodded.

Teddy nodded. "They are looking to see if they can find the spell. You know how much Hermione likes research."

"Just like Rose," Al explained to Score, who nodded.

"My father, also. He loves his library."

The door opened again and a mediwitch stopped short when she saw Scorpius. Teddy gave her a look that was nothing short of impressive. Al wondered if they learned it in Auror School. She harrumphed and continued forward.

"Young Mr. Potter seems to be fine. We've run tests on the residue in both vials and found them to be a compatible poison and antidote. Mr. Potter will be very tired and require rest for a few days. He may experience bouts of nausea, headaches, and dizzy spells. These are side effects and should pass."

Al wondered why she talked to Teddy and acted as though Al was not even present. Maybe she was one of those kid-hating people.

"He is allowed to go home now," she continued. "Several potions are waiting for him, so be certain to check with the mediwizard on floor duty before Mr. Potter leaves. His wand will be returned at that time."

She gave Score a pointed look that clearly expressed her disapproval at his unauthorized presence. Score returned her gaze with one so haughtily glacial that Al had to smile. Al could practice that expression for a month and never come close to perfecting it. She made another huffing noise and left.

"I'll fetch your potions and wand, Al. Get dressed and then I'll take you to Malfoy Manor."

It was odd to see Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron in the parlour of Score's house. Al knew the adult Weasleys and Mr. Malfoy did not get along. Score had tried to maintain that animosity at school with Rose, until the day she started discussing some complex Arithmantic theory. Score had lit up like a Christmas tree and after that he and Rose had spent countless boring hours discussing things that made Al's brain hurt. And it was impossible not to like Hugo. Even the bullies at Hogwarts looked out for him.

Lily was sobbing brokenly in Aunt Hermione's arms. Al felt his own tears start afresh. His aunt held out an arm and Al threw himself into her embrace, half-holding Lily as he did so.

James had elected to remain at the hospital with Uncle George and hope for a positive change in their father's condition.

Al's spell of grief passed quickly, but it left him so tired he could barely move. Teddy picked him up and nearly staggered.

"Damn, Al, you're certainly not a little child any longer, are you?" He cast a Featherweight Charm and Al rested his head against Teddy's chest, too tired to feel embarrassed at being carried. Teddy followed Score to Al's room—or to the room Al used whenever he stayed at Malfoy Manor, at any rate. It adjoined Score's.

Al changed into the pyjamas he kept in the wardrobe and climbed into bed. Score had bid him goodnight and retreated for his own room while Teddy remained to tuck Albus in. Teddy gave him a quick hug and kissed him on the forehead.

"Good night, Al. I'll be here in the morning."

When Teddy was gone, Al fought the exhaustion that tried to drag him into oblivion. He waited, but the door that opened was not the one that led to Score's suite. Lily cautiously approached Al's bed.

"Can I sleep with you?" she asked in a voice still rough with tears. Al wordlessly drew back the covers and she crawled in and snuggled against him. Her tears soaked quickly through the shoulder of his pyjama top.

"I can't believe she's gone, Al," she said quietly.

"I know." He patted her hair awkwardly.

"I wish I hadn't fought with her so much. I wish I'd been a better kid."

"Don't say that. You're a fine kid, Lily," Al said. "I know she was proud of you."

The other door opened and Score walked to the bedside. Al could barely see him in the dim light from the partially covered windows. Al reached out and snagged Score's pale hand.

"Sorry, she—"

"It's all right." Score slipped into the bed on Al's other side. One hand tucked between them and the other rested on Al's abdomen. Score's breath wafted against Al's temple.

"Do you think dad will be okay?" Lily whispered.

"My father is going to help him," Score said in his tone of confident supremacy. "You'll see. Now go to sleep, both of you."

Lily sighed. Al put his hand over Score's and linked their fingers. He breathed in contentment and obeyed Score's command.

**Dawn of a New Day**

Albus woke briefly when Mr. Malfoy took Lily out. He dimly heard their quiet conversation and opened his eyes blearily. He noticed it was still quite dark. Mr. Malfoy mentioned something about going to St. Mungo's to help their dad. Score shifted against Al and he banished all worry for his father. Mr. Malfoy would fix things. Al was sure of it.

He snuggled closer to Score and drifted back to sleep.

Sometime later, a delightful touch against his skin drew him back toward wakefulness. He groaned slightly and floated somewhere between sleep and drowsy reality. His attention quickly focused on the fingers that glided over his chest, making swirling designs and leaving gooseflesh in their wake. He felt hot breath in his ear and teeth nibbled at his earlobe, tickling him. Al was suddenly wide awake.

The hand slipped down and drew a circle around Al's navel with infinite slowness.

"Albus." Score's voice was a sibilant whisper, drawing his name out and sending a shiver down Al's spine. "Are you awake, yet?"

Al's ability to speak was lost in a flood of desire. Score's fingers moved lower, questing beneath the waistband of Al's pyjamas.

"Oh. So you _are_ awake," Score purred and Al had to dredge up memories of Elladora Greengrass to keep from coming right then. This was their first time since Score had admitted he loved Al, and he'd be damned if he would screw it up.

Al turned his head toward the sexy voice and took Score's lips in an eager kiss. He reached over to replicate the lovely stroking Score's hand was performing on Al's cock—and discovered nothing but bare skin.

Al gasped—quite a feat with Score's tongue exploring his mouth—and ran his hand curiously over the blond's body. Score was completely naked. Al whimpered slightly, surprised to discover there was a level beyond _hard_.

He broke the kiss. "Fuck, Score, you're—"

Al's hand finally reached Score's hard shaft, so familiar and yet so new. Score chuckled against his lips.

"Yes, I woke up a while ago, aching for you. I let you sleep as long as I could stand it." Score's hand left Al's cock and tugged sharply at his clothing. "Your turn."

Al could barely force words through his dry throat. "You mean… You want to…?"

Score's eyes were liquid silver and his smile did strange, fluttery things to Al's insides.

"Yes, Albus. I want to."

Al swallowed hard, which did nothing to dispel the desert his throat had become. He released Score and quickly divested himself of his pyjamas, wondering how Score had unbuttoned his shirt without awakening him.

Al shivered when he was as nude as Scorpius. They reached for each other simultaneously, kissing and petting until Al's awkwardness dissipated in an onslaught of lust. Score felt… warm and smooth and brilliant. His hands were everywhere. At Hogwarts they had maintained strict boundaries—their mutual wanking had been an almost automatic gripping of cocks only. This was so much better. Al could not keep from touching Score.

He loved the muscles of Score's back, the angular lines of his hip, and the fine hairs that covered his thighs. And Score tasted even better than he felt. Al kissed and licked at his throat, collarbone, nipples—and didn't that provoke an interesting reaction?—flat abdomen… and even… He thought Score might arch completely off the bed the instant Al closed his lips around it.

A hand clenched in Al's hair and Score cried out. "Fuck, Al!"

Al took his mouth away from Score's cock and looked at him in consternation. "Did I hurt you?"

"Merlin, no! It's the best thing I've ever felt in my life, but… I can't hold it."

An incredible sense of power infused Al and he smiled with pure wickedness. He bent his head and took Score back into his mouth, taking his friend's cock as deep as possible, and _sucked_.

Score arched again. He nearly tore a fistful of Al's hair out and fairly exploded into Al's mouth. He gagged slightly, even though he had been expecting it. Al swallowed as quickly as possible, mainly to get the taste out of his mouth. Pumpkin juice, it was not. Still, it was Scorpius, so he accepted it.

The hand relaxed in his hair and Al slowly released Score's cock as he levered himself up slightly to grin at the blond. Score's hand moved down to cup Al's jaw. He looked somewhat dazed and… blissful, a look Al had never seen on his face before. Albus decided he liked it very much.

"Bloody hell, Al. That was amazing."

Albus smiled and nodded in agreement.

"We… didn't take care of you, yet," Score murmured and Al blushed.

"Um… I sort of came when you did."

"Oh Al, that's just not right."

Al laughed, because it had felt perfectly right to him. "I'm not complaining."

"I'll make it up to you, later," Score said and wrapped his arms around Al to draw him into a kiss.

"I can't wait," Al breathed.

Score's kisses were sweet and gentle. Al finally pulled away to tuck his head against Score's chest before his heart exploded. He held Score tightly and sighed. A hand skated through Al's hair.

"What is it?"

"I shouldn't feel this happy when my mum is… my mum is dead and my dad is in the hospital." Al swallowed hard at the returning tightness in his throat. Soft fingers touched his chin and raised his head until his eyes met Score's.

"She would not want you lying around sobbing, now would she? Don't you think she would rather you were happy?"

Score was probably right. Al did not think his mother would want him to be miserable.

"Your dad, too," Score added and Al chuckled.

"I'm not sure their idea of my happiness is snogging and doing… other things with my best friend."

"I'm not so sure," Score said cryptically.

Al trailed his fingers over the edge of Score's jaw. He had always loved the shape of it.

"What do you mean?" Al asked.

"Earlier, while you were gone, my father's friend Pansy suggested that my father was in love with your father."

Al's fingers stilled and his eyes widened.

"I did not believe it at first, but now that I've thought about it… I think it's true. Why do you think my father hardly batted an eye when he caught us snogging?"

Al cast his mind back in amazement, thinking of all the times his dad and Mr. Malfoy had been together. At first they had been either fighting or stiffly polite, but lately… Al remembered the time Mr. Malfoy had met them at the Manor gates. They had nearly embraced then, with foreheads and hands touching. Everything suddenly became so much clearer.

"My mum was having an affair with the man who kidnapped me."

"I know. I was there, under your invisibility cloak, remember?"

"I wonder if my dad is in love with yours? I thought he loved my mum, but now I'm not so sure. They argued so much; I think they stopped being in love a long time ago."

"Perhaps my father stole your father away and she sought solace in another man's arms. We Malfoys can be irresistible, you know."

Al bit him lightly on the chin and then laughed. "I suppose you're right about that last bit, at any rate."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right." Scorpius leaned in for another kiss and Al stopped worrying about their fathers' possible love lives. He broke the kiss reluctantly after long, delightful minutes.

"We'd better get dressed. Lily could burst back in here at any moment."

Score nodded and planted one last kiss on Al's lips before sliding gracefully off the bed and donning a pair of yellow boxers that he must have retrieved earlier. Al admired his lean body for a moment too long.

"Are you staying abed today?" Score asked as he tugged on his trousers.

Al crawled out of the warm blankets and pulled on his own pants after Summoning a pair from the drawer. He tugged on a pair of trousers and grabbed a shirt from the wardrobe. He was distracted by the sight of Score pulling on a pale yellow shirt. Score getting dressed was nearly as erotic as Score getting _un_dressed.

"Want me to button that for you?" Al offered and realized he had not performed that function for years. They had often buttoned each other's clothing as children, in order to avoid putting the buttons through the wrong holes.

Al moved close and started near Score's throat. He was amazed that merely standing so near the blond could make his heart race and his fingers tremble awkwardly against the fastenings.

When Al finished, he slid his hands into the waistband of Score's trousers, tucking in the hem. Score groaned slightly when Al leaned against him and reached around to do the back. Al gave Score's arse a playful squeeze. Merlin, he was getting hard again and, by the feel of things, so was Score.

The door banged open and Score's lips jerked away from their casual exploration of Al's neck.

"What are you guys doing?" Lily demanded.

"Getting dressed," Al said calmly and finished tucking in Score's shirt before he stepped back.

"It looked like you were making out," Lily said blandly. She threw herself on the rumpled bed and sat cross-legged while she watched Al don his black shirt.

"Aunt Hermione sent a message. She and Score's father cast some sort of spell that stopped the one on dad, but he didn't wake up yet. Score's dad is still there with James."

Al threw Score a look of relief and Score smiled broadly with his _I told you so _grin.

"Oh yeah, I came up here to give you this, Al. You're supposed to take it." She pulled out a vial and lobbed it at him. Al caught it and looked at it for a moment, unwillingly flashing back to the poison Zabini had forced him to drink. Score came up behind him and slid a hand up his spine.

"Better take it or I'll have to force it on you," he murmured.

Al obediently drank the potion and shuddered.

"Are all medicinal potions brewed with used Quidditch gear?" he complained. Score slung an arm around his neck.

"Let's go eat. I'm starving."

The instant Score mentioned food Al realized he had not eaten since early the previous day. Score dragged him out and Lily crawled off the bed to follow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mourning and Celebration**

Al tried to finish his breakfast, but he was distracted by Score who alternately talked to his grandmother or Lily and placed bits of food between those gorgeous lips. After a while, Al gave up trying to eat and simply propped an elbow on the table and watched his friend in bemusement.

Score gave him a sharp look at that point and leaned over to coax Al into taking a bite of toast. "You need to eat, Al," he said absently. He continued to hold bits of meat, fruit, and bread up to Al's lips and Al managed to keep from sucking on the pale fingers each time… mostly. If Score's grandmother thought it odd for her grandson to feed his friend, she graciously said nothing. Lily ignored them, except when the conversation interested her.

Al did not bother to pretend to follow their words. Narcissa questioned Score about school and Lily piped up with an occasional story. Albus already knew everything there was to know about Score's classes and grades, and most of Lily's gossip he had already heard.

Al finally refused to open his mouth for another bite and Score threw an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer. "Are you all right? You look close to tipping over."

"Tired," Al admitted. He hid a yawn behind an upraised hand and let his head loll against Score's shoulder. "Why am I so tired?"

"Probably the potion," Score said. "They like it when you sleep all day, so you don't strain anything. Come on, I'll take you to the library. You can rest on the couch while I read. I'm sure my father will bring word from the hospital as soon as he hears anything."

"Has James been here?" Al asked Lily.

"Not yet."

Scorpius helped Al to his feet He bid a polite good morning to Narcissa and allowed Score to drag him to the library. Al did not want to sleep, he wanted to go to the hospital and see his dad. Score listened to his complaints while as the blond fetched a book from the shelves, but he said nothing. Al yawned again and gratefully stretched out on the couch when Score sat down, book in hand.

Al's head rested on the familiar perch of Score's lap and he sighed happily when a soothing, repetitive motion brushed the hair away from his forehead.

"Whatcha reading?" Al asked sleepily.

"Go to sleep or I'll hit you with it," Score warned.

Al scowled and complied.

Albus woke when his pillow shifted suddenly, throwing him into a panic from the leftover residue of a bad dream. He sat up quickly and winced at a jolt of pain. He remembered where he was as Score's fingers untangled from his hair. Before he could comment, he noticed Score's father standing nearby. His appearance must have startled Score.

"Mr. Malfoy. Is my dad—?"

"He's awake, Albus. He's not entirely well, but we have hope."

The words were alarming—adult-speak for something gone horribly wrong.

"Not well? Hope for what?" Al's hand shot out instinctively and found Score's. The blond gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mr. Malfoy said, "He can't walk, but it should be a temporary condition. I'll be bringing him home shortly, since I'm certain St. Mungo's is already over capacity for Weasleys and Potter well-wishers."

Albus sat back, half-leaning against the warm shape of Scorpius. Mr. Malfoy watched them for a moment and then asked, "Where is Lily?"

"Um… I'm not sure. I've been asleep for a while, I think."

"I'll find her."

He left the library and Al sighed. Score lifted Al's hand to his mouth and nibbled on Al's knuckles.

"Do you want to sleep some more?" Score asked. He leaned over to nibble on Al's neck and Albus wondered how the blond could even ask that question after destroying every hint of fatigue. Score's fingers touched Al's jaw and angled his head back for a kiss.

"What if your father comes back?" Al asked during a pause for air.

"So? He caught us snogging already."

Score kissed him again and Al wondered if it had been a good idea to wake up this amorously determined side of Score's personality.

"Lily?" he managed.

"Would she care?" Score asked and drew his tongue over Al's lower lip.

"Probably not," Al admitted. He gave up and wrapped his hands into Score's hair. As if capitulation was all Score sought, he pulled away with a frown.

"Grandmere might be shocked, though. I wouldn't want to give the old girl a fatal jolt."

Al chuckled. "I think it will be _you_ getting a fatal jolt if she hears you call her that."

"You could be right." Score grinned. "Are you hungry? We've been asleep for a few hours."

"I could eat."

On their way to the dining room they ran into Lily, who threw herself at Al.

"Did you hear? Dad's going to be okay! Mr. Malfoy is bringing him here and we're going to have a party! I'm going to go get dressed." She hugged Al again and then gave him a pinch before rushing off. Al turned to Score.

"Party?"

Scorpius sighed. "I should have guessed when father said St. Mungo's was overcrowded. If he plans to bring them all here, Grandmere will insist on a gala event. We had better go dress properly."

Al wanted to argue, but Score pulled him implacably upstairs and then spent far too long dressing and undressing Al with scarcely a kiss or caress in between. When it came to clothing, Scorpius Malfoy was all business.

When Al was adorned to Score's satisfaction, the blond eyed him critically and then pulled a comb through Al's hair. As he did so, he leaned close and whispered, "You look gorgeous. I can't wait to take your clothes off again, later."

Al wanted to ask what was wrong with taking them off right now, but he was distracted by Score doing his own undressing.

"Why are we dressed like Slytherins?" Al asked on their way to the Blue Ballroom, which was a rather long hike from Score's room. Scorpius was dressed all in silvery grey and Al thought he looked like some ethereal fey creature.

"Because you look stunning in green and my father will find it amusing," Score replied.

Al grinned at the word stunning. He suddenly did not mind the emerald dress robes Score had insisted he wear.

The room was full of milling people, most of whom Al did not recognize, although he did give Teddy an exuberant hug when he spotted the Auror.

"Your father should be here shortly, Al." Teddy reached out and rumpled Score's hair, earning a hot glare from the blond. Al smirked as Score tried to smooth the damage and the icy gaze was turned on him as well. Teddy waved at another Auror and wandered off. Al leaned close to Score and murmured, "You look fetching with your hair messed up like that."

Score sneered and continued to preen his locks, but a pink color touched his cheeks. "_Fetching_, Albus? Where did you learn that word?"

"From you, naturally," Al said and snagged a glass of champagne from a tray that floated by. Before he could take a sip, the glass evaporated from his hand.

"Damned Underage Detection Charms," Al muttered. Score put an arm around his shoulders and drew him close.

"You don't need to get drunk tonight," Score said. "I want you wide awake and fully cognizant."

Al wanted to ask why, but he had a suspicion. He grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice and gulped it to cool the rush of heat that seemed to fill him. It didn't help much.

They wandered the room and greeted Al's uncles and aunts. Lily, Rose and Hugo gravitated over to join them and soon they had staked out a corner. They sat on the plump chairs and exchanged school gossip until an excited whisper snaked through the room. Mr. Malfoy entered with Al's father.

Al and Lily charged through the room to launch themselves at their dad with cries of delight. Their father stood stiffly, but hugged them both.

"I'd lean down and kiss you both, but I can't quite bend, yet," his dad said with a grin. It was only then that Al noticed his father floated just above the floor. He was attached to a device of some sort with a Charm that kept him Levitated and upright.

Al was instantly worried, but his father reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

"It's all right, Albus. They tell me it's only temporary."

Albus was not so sure. He didn't think his father would lie to him, but maybe he was also lying to himself. Mr. Malfoy was more reassuring.

"He'll be fine, Albus. I'll see to it."

Al smiled, thinking that Score and his father were very alike. If Mr. Malfoy said it, then he would make it so. Aunt Hermione smothered Al's dad in a hug while Uncle Ron and Mr. Malfoy glared daggers at each other.

Score took Al's hand and pulled him away.

"Come on. He'll be forced to chat with all the adults all night. You'll see him later."

Lily followed them back to their corner and Al saw that James had joined them. James pulled Al into a rough hug, which was so un-James-like that Al nearly didn't respond. He finally wrapped one arm around his brother and squeezed—only one arm because Score had not released the other hand.

"Don't look now, but Grandma Molly is coming this way," James said.

Al's grip tightened on Score's hand. Al's grandmother enveloped James and Al in a tearful hug. She could barely speak for sobbing.

"Oh, you poor poor dears," she cried. "My Ginny loved you so! Come here, Lily."

Lily joined the stiff circle. Although Al's arm was twisted at an uncomfortable angle, he refused to let go of Scorpius. Soon Grandma Molly had them all crying openly at her weepy reminisces. Grandpa Arthur patted her back soothingly and looked lost. Their grandmother finally calmed slightly.

"Well, of course you poor darlings will have to come home with us," she announced.

Al pushed away from her embrace and stepped into Score's. The blond let go of Al's hand only to wrap both arms around Al's waist in a protective circle. Al looked at James worriedly. Al loved his grandmother, but she tended to treat them all as if they were four years old. Her love was a bit smothering.

"We'll be staying here, Grandma," James said. "We want to be close to dad. Mr. Malfoy has agreed to take care of him."

She reacted as if slapped. "Malfoy?" she snarled. "Since when does any Malfoy care about a Potter?"

Al gasped and he felt Score's arms tighten almost painfully.

"Molly!" Al's grandfather said in a shocked tone.

"Excuse me, madam," Score said politely. "I think you may have been misinformed. The Malfoys care very deeply for the Potters. Very. Deeply." The last two words were nearly a threat and Al felt almost dizzy for a moment. Score's body was warm and solid against his back.

Al's grandmother glared at Scorpius as if he had become something loathsome. Al suddenly wanted to take Score and flee.

"I'm staying with Scorpius," he said adamantly.

To his surprise, James reached out and tousled his hair with a laugh. "Don't try to separate these two," he warned. "They share one brain."

"And everything else," Lily mumbled, but she giggled at James's words. The tension eased somewhat.

Grandma Molly sniffed. "All right, then. I can see I'm outnumbered. Lily, what about you?"

Lily's eyes widened and she hugged James suddenly. "I'll stay, too, Grandma. Sorry, but I want to be with my brothers right now."

"Very well, but I shall speak to your father about this." She gave Lily one last wistful look and touched her red hair gently before bursting into tears again. Grandpa Arthur thankfully led her away.

"Thank Merlin that's over," Score breathed in Al's ear. Al had to agree. He would much rather be with the calming influence of Scorpius than the overwrought hysteria of his grandmother.

Rose and Hugo returned from wherever they had escaped to and soon Hugo had them all in stitches by mimicking all of the adults in the room with hilarious precision. James professed their antics too childish for his tolerance and departed, but Al could tell his brother was exhausted and only used it as an excuse to find his bed.

Lily had the bright idea to give Rose and Hugo a tour of the Manor before their parents took them home.

"Want to come?" she asked Al and Score.

"I live here," Score said dryly.

"I've seen it," Al added. Lily shrugged and left with the two Weasleys in tow. Al laughed. "She's been here two days and she acts like she owns the place."

Score's thumb had been gently brushing the side of Al's neck for the past half hour and the soft caress was waking up parts of Al that ought not be awakened in a room full of people.

"Albus?" Score asked against Al's cheek as his pale fingers took the half-full glass of butterbeer out of Al's hand and set it aside.

"Yeah?" Al asked, hoping the blond would suggest going to his room.

"I'm going to kiss you right now," Score said and then did. It was not a subtle kiss, but a full-on exploratory quest that left Al flushed and breathless. His friend laughed as Al stared at him in surprise.

"Sorry," Score said. "That was purely wicked of me. I just wanted to see your father's face."

"Wha—?" Al turned his head to find his father several feet away, fairly riveted with shock. Mr. Malfoy stood beside him and his expression mirrored Score's.

"My father knows about us, so it's only fair," Score rationalized and Al turned to glare at him.

"My dad's been through a lot today. The shock might have killed him."

"Your father survived a duel to the death with an evil, undead wizard. I hardly think a tiny kiss will do him in."

Al risked another glance at his father and was relieved to note the stunned look had been replaced by contemplation. Mr. Malfoy seemed to be wrapped around his father at least as closely as Score was clinched around Al.

"I think it's time for us to go," Score said in a way that sent a shiver of anticipation coursing through Al. He checked once more, but the crowd had swallowed his father and Mr. Malfoy, so Al meekly allowed Score to lead him out. He would gladly put off that particular conversation with his father. He wondered, though, if his dad was really in love with Mr. Malfoy, then perhaps he would not object to Al's affection for Score.

All thought of his father vanished the instant they entered Score's room and the door shut and locked behind them. Score turned on Al immediately and pinned him to the portal with a kiss. Score devoured Al's mouth while his hands roamed possessively over Al's body.

Albus chuckled, prompting Score to pull back and look at him curiously.

"You're cute when you're shy like this," Al quipped.

Score smirked and moved in again. His hands unbuttoned Al's emerald robes, so Al decided he had better get started on Score's, as well. It would have been faster if they weren't distracted by kissing, but once begun they could not seem to stop. Al drank in the taste of Score with eager glee. He could scarcely believe everything he had always wanted was literally in his grasp.

Their clothing fell away as they moved away from the door toward the bed. Score's naked skin was almost more than Al could bear. His caresses, so feverish before, slowed to a breathless crawl as he trailed them over Score's shoulders, ribs, and flanks.

"Score, you're so beautiful," he breathed.

Score's hands moved just as slowly. "You, too, Al. Merlin, yes."

They fell onto Score's bed and half-crawled, half-dragged each other to the center. Albus shifted until he lay sprawled partially across Score. The heated kissing continued and their hands explored each other, avoiding the obvious areas in order to prolong the sensations. Al was rock-hard and he knew he was probably leaking onto the expensive spread. He finally changed his position, dropping his legs between Score's and sliding upward. Score gasped as their erections touched and caught. Al repeated the delightful friction a few times and nibbled at Score's lips.

"Mmm, can't wait to be inside you, Score."

Their panting breaths mingled and Score's fingers dug into Al's buttocks, drawing him closer.

"Good one, Al. You mean you can't wait to feel _me_ inside _you_."

Al reared back to blink into Score's beautiful grey eyes.

"You can't be serious," he said.

Score laughed. "Really, Albus. You actually thought _I_ would bottom?"

"Well, yeah."

The grey eyes narrowed. "In your dreams, Potter."

Albus smirked a bit and allowed his chin to jut slightly in determination. "I'm already on top, Scorpius."

"Good luck staying there."

Al hid his grin and prepared for the wrestling match of his life. Regardless of how it turned out, he knew it was going to be good.

Author's Note: Yes, I admit to being evil incarnate. Who do YOU think will top?


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

Al was quite thoroughly pinned. Scorpius had both of Al's wrists jammed against the hand-carved headboard and his hot breath panted against Al's neck in steamy gusts. By rights, Al should have bested him. Score had inherited the Malfoy slenderness and Al's muscles had been gained in hundreds of wrestling matches with an evil older brother.

The laughter had leveled the playing field. Somewhere along the way, Al had developed the giggles and could not seem to shake them.

"Got…" Score panted. "Got you, Al."

Albus struggled to breathe through the chuckles that still shook his frame and the weight of his friend on his chest. He tried to speak and weakly tugged at the hands that gripped him. He had a stitch in his side.

Score chuckled and Al could tell he was trying to restrain himself. "Al, you have to stop. This is serious."

"Serious," Al repeated and broke into laughter again. Score bit Al's neck, which earned a quick gasp, but the giggles did not diminish. Score joined him and then growled.

"Albus! Damn you! I won, so I'm going to let go now and you are going to lie there nice and sweet while I fuck you properly."

"Okay," Al said agreeably and chortled happily.

Score let go and slid downward. His naked body felt wonderful and nearly managed to squelch Al's terminal giggles. He groaned and took a deep breath as Score's beautiful face hovered over his cock, which had deflated under the attack of laughter. A smirk curved the blond's lips and Al's cock twitched in response. Al grinned widely.

One of Score's hands stroked lightly over Al's renewing erection and the other traced his testicles. Al's amusement finally started to fade. He reached down and touched Score's soft, silvery hair. Score rewarded his docility by licking a slow stripe up the length of Al's cock.

Al nearly whimpered and his giggles were officially trounced. Score repeated the motion and his fingers moved over Al's entrance. A shiver of anticipation coursed through him.

"Score," Al breathed.

The blond pressed a kiss into Al's flank. "Al," he returned throatily. Score fumbled for his wand, which was nearly lost in the mangled blankets and took a moment to recover. He located it and cast a Summoning Charm. A small jar flew from the bedside cabinet and into Score's waiting hand. The blond grinned at him as he unscrewed the lid.

"Score, have you ever done anything like this before?" Al asked, even though he was semi-terrified of the answer. "Um… with Elladora or anyone?"

Score nibbled his way up the length of Al's cock and bit lightly at the tip, causing Al's hand to tighten reflexively in the platinum hair. Merlin, he never would have guessed how much Scorpius liked to use his teeth. Not that Al had any problem with being eaten.

"No, Al. I'm as virginal as you," Score admitted. Albus released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He felt another rush of affection.

"Good," Al said firmly and then yelped as one of Score's cold, slick fingers breached him. "Damn it! Did you cast a bloody Cooling Charm on the shite?"

"Are you saying you don't like this?" Score asked huskily and moved his finger slightly.

"Um…" Well, it felt sort of… odd, actually, although once the shock of the chilly lubricant wore off it was easier to bear. Score drew his finger mostly out and then pressed it back in slowly. "It's not so bad."

"Okay, I'm going to add another," Score warned. Al tried to relax, which became easier when Score's hot mouth enveloped his cock. Al lost himself in the sensation of floating bliss.

"Oh… Score," he managed.

"Merlin, I love it when you say that."

Three fingers later and Al was nearly incoherent. He had never imagined anything could feel so good.

"Score," he said, "I need—"

Score's long, beautiful fingers retreated, leaving Al aching for more. The blond shifted himself over Al with a predatory grin.

"Beautiful Al," he said and reached down, preparing to move his cock into the space vacated by his fingers. Albus had other ideas. He reached down and wrapped his hands around Score's waist. He pulled and Score fell forward with an oath. Instead of the intended mark, Score's cock slipped along the side of Al's testicles and halted against Al's hard shaft.

"Your turn," Al said as he dipped a hand down into the jar of salve. His other hand dropped down and held Score's arse. The blond tried to rear back, but Al's other hand moved quickly and his slick fingers touched Score's tight hole, earning a gasp.

"Albus," Score said warningly. Al pushed a finger inside and a ragged sound escaped his lover. "What are you—?"

"Don't worry, it's brilliant," Al said. "I want you to feel it, too."

"I will, just as soon as…" Score trailed off and dropped his head. Platinum hair spilled over Al's face. "Oh," he finished.

Al finger-fucked him gently for a few moments and was rewarded by Score lying still atop him, silent but for the increasing tempo of his breathing. Albus added a second finger and Score shifted forward minutely to give Al better access. Al moved his fingers with more determination and licked absently at Score's collarbone, which now touched his lips. Score made a guttural whimper and rocked back against Al's hands. Merlin, that was hot.

Al obligingly added more digits, marveling at the hot, tight feel of the blond writhing atop him.

"Bloody fucking hell, Al. Pull out."

Al recognized the tone and reluctantly took his fingers out of Score, only to have the blond reach back and grasp Al's cock. Before Al could register his intention, Score moved and sheathed Al's cock in sudden, brilliant heat. Al nearly came right then.

His shocked gaze met silver for a moment and Score said, "Merlin, Al." He smirked slightly and then started to move. Al grabbed his hips quickly.

"Don't move!" he cried. "Don't… it feels too good. Just… give me a minute."

"It feels too good not to move, Al," Score admitted, but he stayed still until Al's excruciating need to orgasm weakened slightly.

"Okay," Al panted. "Okay now."

Score levered up until he was nearly upright, impaled on Al as deeply as possible. Score rose a bit and then dropped back down, nearly causing Al's heart to stop. He bit his lip, knowing he wouldn't last long. He tried to concentrate on something else, but the sight of the gorgeous blond riding his cock destroyed all rational thought. Score reached down and touched his own erection, but Al brushed his hand aside to take the hard shaft. Score's hair was disheveled and his skin was flushed. Lovely huffing sounds escaped his partially open lips.

Score rocked his hips faster and faster, fucking Al's hand while he rode Al's cock. Al's stare was riveted. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

"Al, Al, oh Merlin, Al!" Score choked and came on the last cry. Hot fluid coursed over Al's hand and splattered against his abdomen. The blond obligingly rocked twice more and Al's toes nearly curled to the breaking point as he exploded, spilling into Score's tight—so tight—heat with a shout of relief.

Score collapsed on him like a dead weight. Al wrapped his arms around the blond and held on for dear life. They remained there, unmoving, until their breathing returned to some semblance of normalcy. Score's face was buried in Al's neck and he wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep and replay the event in his dreams. The ever-practical blond had other ideas. He pulled away from Al, although not far because Albus would not let him get far enough to avoid a grasping hand.

Score was fabulous at Cleaning Charms, due to his inherent fastidious nature Al suspected.

"Don't sleep yet, lazy prat. We'll be stuck together grotesquely if we don't clean up, and don't tell me you don't mind, because I do."

The Charms were quickly cast and then Score was back where he belonged, snug in Al's arms, although this time his smooth back was pressed against Al's chest and their limbs were pleasantly tangled. Al's breathed in the scent of the platinum hair that tickled his face.

"Score?" Al asked when they had settled together and the silence encroached.

"I know, Albus, I love you, too, and yes, it was the most astounding thing _ever_, until tomorrow when it will fade to vague memory after _I_ fuck _you_, but right now I am very tired and need to sleep."

A rush of warmth fought with amusement and Al replied, "Actually, I wanted to ask what you did to Elladora."

Score tensed against him. "What? Why bring that up now?"

"Rose said Ella was admitted to St. Mungo's and they were unable to wake her up."

Score made a snorting noise and pulled Al's hand up to his lips. He ran his tongue gently over Al's knuckles. "She'll wake up in a few days and she'll feel so much better."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing much, only she was something of a twat, wasn't she? I mean, she lied to me repeatedly. Arranging to kidnap you out from under my nose was the final straw, however. Such a thing is not to be tolerated, Al." Score's grip tightened and his teeth grazed Al's hand. "No one takes what is mine."

"Even if you didn't want me, then?"

The bite turned into a gentle kiss and then another. "I wanted you, Al. Never doubt that."

"Why will Ella be better?" Al asked instead of melting like the sappy Hufflepuff he was. Score was silent for a long time. Al nearly asked again, but Score finally replied.

"I sort of erased her personality."

_Erased her personality_.

"It's a modified Memory Charm. She remembers everything, except those specific bits that sort of make her who she is."

Al was nearly horrified, until he remembered that the kidnapping had resulted in the death of his mother. Suddenly it seemed no more than Ella deserved. He snuggled more tightly against Scorpius.

"Can't wait for tomorrow," he mumbled.

Score chuckled. "Go to sleep, Al."


End file.
